Harry PotterGranger and the Chamber of Secrets
by Marcus S. Lazarus
Summary: -Sequel to 'H-PG and the Philosopher's Stone- As his second year at Hogwarts begins, Harry must turn detective to crack the mystery of a strange voice in the walls, unexplained paralysis among students, and history's worst DADA teacher
1. There's a HouseElf on the Table

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: Here is the sequel to what is easily my most popular story so far; 'Harry Potter/Granger and the Philosopher's Stone'. Now, combining the original version with a bit more detective work and a _hell _of a lot more Lockhart-bashing, I give you…

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As Harry studied the album currently lying in his lap, he couldn't stop himself from smiling slightly at the pictures spread out before him. Images or not, they really did help him feel… connected… to his parents in a way that he'd never really felt before.

OK, so admittedly the fact that they could move about did help him feel a _bit _closer to the subjects than he might have felt otherwise, but he wasn't going to let minor details like that get in the way of things.

Ever since he'd come back from Hogwarts, after he and Hermione had completed their homework, there hadn't been much more for them to do other than go over their work and study the album he now held in his hands, Alan and Jane having grounded them for their idiocy in going up against a powerful Dark Wizard and into terrible danger on their own (Something Harry had definitely _not _pictured himself being grounded for in all his life). Admittedly, they understood that their children hadn't had much choice at the time- Jane was writing a stern letter of complaint to Professor McGonagall for not believing the three of them when they'd told her about their theory- but the punishment nevertheless remained. They'd been allowed to attend to their homework, of course- both their parents were all in favour of them continuing their education- but with both of them working on it together, it had been finished in a matter of days, leaving them with little else to do but wait for the punishment to be lifted.

Initially, the album had been something Harry had kept pretty much to himself, only taking it out to look at it when he was alone- he wasn't entirely sure how the Grangers would have reacted to having pictures of his _biological _parents around the house- but when Jane had discovered him looking at it late one night, she'd insisted that the rest of the family get a chance to look at them as well, and they'd spent some time over the subsequent days just scanning through the pages of the album, reflecting on the lives of the people who had brought Harry into the world. Hermione was still a little 'jealous' of the album, in a way- no matter how old she became, there was always going to be a part of her that felt a bit jealous of Harry's _biological _family, even if she knew that he cared for her as a sister regardless- but, that aside, she had come to enjoy looking at the album just as much as Harry did.

_Probably because we don't have much _else _to remind us of Hogwarts_… Harry mused to himself, that rather depressing thought putting a dampner on his mood.

Ever since he and Hermione had returned home, they hadn't had so much as a single letter from any of their friends at school. At first, they'd been able to attribute this to the fact that their initial letter-writing privileges had been restricted after the Voldemort thing anyway- Hedwig had been allowed out of her cage to exercise, but neither had been allowed to write anything to give to her- but even after that restriction had been lifted, they'd never managed to get a reply; Hedwig left the house with the letters, came back with nothing, and they never received so much as a single reply back with her…

The fact that there wasn't even any sign of a letter _today_ was starting to worry Harry, particularly since it was his birthday. He knew that the Grangers and all his adopted cousins _would _remember it, of course- they were all coming over for a party later in the day- but still, he wouldn't have minded some renewed acknowledgement from the wizarding world that he wasn't just some figure to be put up on a pedestal and worshipped…

Harry was so occupied with his train of thought that he barely even registered it when his door opened and Hermione walked in, looking inquiringly at him as she noted the album in his hands.

"Everything OK?" she asked him anxiously, as she walked over to sit beside him on the bed, looking at the album before them; on occasion, Harry had been known to start crying while studying the pictures, and wanted to make sure that this wasn't going to be another such incident.

"Yeah… I'm fine," Harry replied, nodding slightly as he looked back at Hermione. "Just… puzzled about the lack of contact we've had recently, I guess."

"Yeah… I know what you mean…" Hermione sighed as she looked back at Harry. "I mean, I get that some people might find it a bit difficult to treat _you _like a normal person, but me? I'm nothing special; why should somebody find it hard to talk to _me _about stuff…?"

"Uh, do you mean there's nothing special about you _apart _from the fact that you're the brainiest witch in our year?" Harry retorted, smiling slightly at Hermione as he spoke. "You managed to get some of the highest grades in the year, and you don't think that makes you even a _bit _intimidating to people? Y'know, you can be as smart as you like, but if it weren't for me I think you'd have absolutely _no _clue about _people_…"

"Oh, knock it off, you!" Hermione retorted, smiling slightly as she punched him lightly in the arm, before the brief amusement of the moment failed and she stood up once again. "C'mon, we'd better get changed; there's still a lot to do before we're ready for the guests to show up."

"True," Harry said, smiling slightly as he put the album off to one side. "But, hey, at least it's better than what I would have had with the Dursleys; I'd be lucky if they even _remembered _it was my birthday, quite frankly."

"Well, as it is, you don't _have _to put up with them, so we'll forget about that, OK?" Hermione stated grimly before she smiled once again and walked out the door. "Just get dressed and get down for breakfast, OK? You _know _how long it takes for you to prepare the cake properly…"

Harry rolled his eyes slightly.

"You know as well as I do that _you _were the reason I had that problem back then!" he retorted, as he glared teasingly at his sister. "The next time you want to prank me, could you _not _do it by swapping the baking powder for something?"

"Hey; _you're _the one who couldn't take the joke!" Hermione retorted teasingly. "You need to _relax _a bit at times, you know?"

"There's a fine line between a joke and something that's almost _cruel_, 'Mione; you nearly went _over _the line with that little trick!" Harry countered back. "Admit it!"

"Never," Hermione stated simply. "It was a joke that went out of hand; that's all. If your cake fell apart as a result… well, that's just a happy little accident."

"OK, that's it!" Harry yelled, as he jumped up, grabbed Hermione, and began to tickle her mercilessly.

"H-h-hey!" Hermione yelled, laughing uncontrollably as she pushed back against her brother. "Kn-kn-knock it _off_, OK!"

For a moment, Harry was tempted to continue- it had been a while since they'd had an opportunity to just muck about like this, really- but then he glanced at his watch and sighed slightly in frustration; given how long it sometimes took for them to get ready for the parties, they should probably get moving soon.

"Y'know, as fun as this is, we really don't _quite _have the time for it right now," he said, smiling nonchalantly at Hermione as he released his hold on her and indicated the clock. "We should probably just get moving and get everything set up for later; we've got to get moving if we'll be ready for the others."

"Yeah… fair point," Hermione sighed, before she stood up and headed for the door. "I'll see if Mum and Dad are up; see you downstairs in a few minutes, OK?"

"Sure thing," Harry said, putting the album off to one side as he got up to begin getting dressed.

He'd worry about Ron's lack of communication later; right now, he had to prepare for his birthday party.

* * *

A few hours later, Harry and Hermione were sitting in the kitchen, once again playing their almost traditional game of Top Trumps with Natalie while the younger children watched a movie in another room and the parents ate their own evening meals in the front room. It wasn't exactly an ideal family moment, they all knew- mostly on these occasions the family should spend time all together rather than divided amongst various rooms-, but, the way Harry saw it, they'd all spent a great deal of time together for the most part of the day, and had just taken the opportunity now that the initial hubbub had died down to do their own 'thing' in their own 'groups'. They all loved each other, of course, but sometimes you just wanted to do your own thing rather than get mixed together with some people you could have trouble relating to when you had the 'alternative' option of spending time just with those you had more in common with. 

Besides, given how much younger the rest of the children were than the three of them, Harry, Hermione and Natalie generally found it easier to relate to each other as opposed to their cousins and (In Natalie's case) siblings. They loved the others, true, but sometimes they just wanted to spend some time with people in their own age group discussing something that they _knew _the others would be interested in, rather than something they just _might _be interested in.

As well as all that… well, Harry and Hermione had to admit that, since discovering about Natalie's own magical potential, they were actively seeking every opportunity they could to figure out how Natalie might react to the news that she could do magic. So far they were just trying to determine how she'd react to the idea of having 'powers', for lack of a better term, and hadn't managed to get anything definite either way; Natalie seemed to think that it would be cool, but they just couldn't be sure how she'd react to the _rest _of their news.

Harry was rapidly coming to the simple conclusion that he sometimes hated his life.

_Couldn't _something _in my life be _simple _for once_? he reflected as he studied the cards in his hand. With the part of his mind that he was 'allowing' to consider the trivial details, he wished that it was his turn soon- he only had a couple of cards left, but he knew for a _fact _that Professor X's intelligence level was one of the highest ones in the deck- but the rest of him was inwardly cursing at how complicated his life seemed to be ever since he got his Hogwarts letter.

Oh, it was _fun _at the school, he wouldn't deny that, but he just wished everything could be a bit more _straightforward_ than it had been since he'd arrived there…

"Penny for your thoughts, Harry?" Natalie asked, smiling slightly over at her cousin as she glanced up from her own cards. "I'd give more, but I spent most of my money on your gift."

"And it's appreciated, trust me," Harry said, smiling slightly back at her. He anticipated several hours of enjoyment out of the Sherlock Holmes/H.P. Lovecraft 'crossover' short story book she'd given him; _Shadows over Baker Street _looked like being a _very _interesting read. "It's just… stuff at school, you know."

"Ah," Natalie said, nodding slightly in understanding. "That arrogant git you mentioned who thinks he's better than everybody else being a pain, right?"

"Yeah, among other things," Hermione said, shrugging in a poor attempt at a nonchalant manner as she looked at her cousin; they'd told Natalie as much about Hogwarts as they could without mentioning anything _specifically _magic-related, which, naturally, had included Malfoy, who in their 'rewrite' of their school's history was the typical 'rich kid' who thought his money gave him the authority to boss everybody else around.

"Like what?" Natalie inquired, looking curiously at her cousin. "Does it have anything to do with that accident you had after your exams? I heard you got into a fight that left you out of it for a while, but Mum and Dad wouldn't tell me anything more-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry stated firmly; the Grangers may have felt obligated to tell their relatives about his coma, but as far as he was concerned, he was content to allow them to come up with their own theories about what had actually _caused _the 'accident'. "Now, are you going to play the next card, or are we going to sit here all night?"

"Geez, ask a civil question…" Natalie mused, as she reached up to the cards in her hand. She had just placed her next card down on the table- it was Doctor Strange, Harry noted with a slight smile; ever since learning that Natalie was a witch herself, he found it kind of amusing when she showed an interest in anything relating to magic- when there was a loud pop, and suddenly a small figure, no more than three feet high, with an oversized head and ears and spindly arms and legs, dressed in only a dirty pillow-case, appeared in the middle of the table, looking with wide eyes at Harry.

"Harry Potter…" the creature said, in an awed voice, apparently unconcerned about the presence of a confused Hermione and a shocked Natalie as it looked at him. "Such an _honour _it is…"

Harry blinked in surprise.

"Uh… you are?" he asked, crossing his fingers and praying that none of the adults would show up during this conversation; it was going to be hard enough just telling Natalie about the fact that she could do magic without working in any _more _explanations right now.

"Dobby, sir," the creature replied, bowing politely. "Dobby the house-elf."

"Ah," Harry said, exchanging a surprised glance with Hermione; in all their experience with the magical world, they certainly hadn't been expecting elves to look like _this_. "Uh… not to be rude or anything… but this isn't exactly the _best _time to have a house-elf in this room."

"Oh, of course sir; Dobby understands that," Dobby said earnestly. "It is just… it is… _difficult_, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…"

"Uh… maybe you could… sit down?" Hermione said uncertainly, indicating the free chair opposite her on the table.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione wondered if she'd made a mistake; the small creature's eyes suddenly filled with tears and he began bluddering like a terrified infant.

"S­-_sit down_!" he wailed; Harry was only grateful that the rest of the visitors were far enough away from the room not to hear the current 'conversation', otherwise he'd have even more questions to deal with. "Never… never _ever_…!"

"Dobby, stop _crying_, will you?" Hermione hissed; they were just lucky that the creature's wails hadn't attracted any attention _already_, at the volume he was wailing at. "We didn't mean to offend you or anything-"

"_Offend _Dobby?" the creature said, looking incredulously at Hermione. "Dobby has never been _asked _to sit down by a witch _or _wizard… like an _equal_…"

Apparently, this was enough to break Natalie out of her stunned silence.

"_Witch_?!" she yelled, looking incredulously at Hermione before her gaze turned to Harry. "_Wizard_?! _What the _Hell _have you guys been keeping from me_?"

"OK, in our defence, we were _planning _on telling you soon-" Harry said, looking apologetically at his cousin, hoping that Dobby wouldn't mind being temporarily ignored right now.

"Oh, like _when_; when you _had _to?" Natalie protested, standing up to glare at Harry. "Y'know, I thought you guys _trusted _me with stuff like this, and you couldn't even be _bothered _to tell me-"

At that moment, Natalie waved one arm in frustration, and suddenly all the cards on the table were floating in mid-air, suspended about a foot off solid ground with no apparent regard being paid to the laws of physics.

As Natalie's eyes widened in shock at what she'd just done, Harry shrugged apologetically.

"_That _would be the reason why we didn't tell you straight away," he said, sheepishly. "We figured that, since you could do magic _yourself_, we should probably wait to tell you about it until you _had _to know… there's this whole 'Decree for the Restriction of Under-Age Wizardry' thing that prevents you from using magic outside of school, and we didn't want to tell you about it and then get you in trouble for trying to do magic on purpose…"

He shrugged once again as Natalie continued to stare in shock at the floating cards. "Stuff like this is OK- accidental magic tends to happen a lot when you're young and feeling some strong emotion or another- but you can't do anything _deliberate _at the moment, and we didn't want to leave you feeling frustrated because you knew what you _could _do if you had the chance and couldn't do right now."

"Oh," Natalie said in a small voice, as she looked uncertainly at her hand before looking inquiringly up at Harry. "Uh… when _do _I get to have a wand?"

"If the school operates on the same system for you as it did for us- and we have no reason to think it won't- you can get one in a couple of years from now when you get your letter to come to Hogwarts in the first place," Hermione put in, looking sympathetically at her younger cousin. "Just… don't tell your parents about all this _just _yet, OK? We'll tell you what we can beforehand, but we'd rather not tell _them_ anything until we've got something to prove we're not mad."

(OK, so Harry _could_ legitimately show the MacDonalds the invisibility cloak or the photo album as proof of magic without attracting any unwanted attention from the Ministry of Magic, but, at the moment, he wasn't _quite _ready to share the few mementos he had of his biological parents with everybody he knew at the moment.)

Realising that Dobby was still standing in the middle of the table, silently waiting for them to finish talking, Harry cursed mentally as he turned back to the strange new arrival; he really shouldn't have allowed himself to get distracted like that.

"Uh… sorry about ignoring you like that; we just had to-" he began, before Dobby started blubbering again.

"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby! Harry Potter shows concern about-" Dobby began, before Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth; his voice was starting to reach an uncomfortably high volume, and if it got too loud they'd probably be discovered.

"Will you _stop _wailing about everything?" Hermione asked, looking anxiously at the house-elf. "We've got other people in here, you know, and not _all _of them know that we're magical! We'd rather _not _have to answer too many questions, if that's OK with you?"

"Of… of course, Miss…" Dobby began, before pausing and looking uncertainly at Hermione. "Who is you again, Miss?"

"Oh… Hermione Granger, Harry's adopted sister," Hermione replied, looking uncertainly at the elf; she didn't want him to start blubbering about how great _she _was as well.

"Of course!" Dobby said, suddenly smiling as though he'd just remembered something he'd heard a while back. "You is the Know-It-All Witch!"

"Uh… not the most _flattering _description, but… yeah, that's me," Hermione replied, looking in confusion at the elf; Dobby had sounded almost overly respectful to Harry earlier, but right now he'd almost seemed to be insulting her without fully realising it.

"OK, if you're here to tell me anything, I've just got a few simple ground-rules," Harry interjected, looking critically at the house-elf before him. "Firstly, you're to keep all noise to a minimum; secondly, you _don't _call Hermione that again- I'd rather you referred to her as 'Hermione Granger' rather than that- and where did you hear her referred to as that anyway?"

"Dobby apologises for the insult, Hermione Granger," the elf said, looking briefly at Hermione before returning his attention to Harry. "And Dobby heard Hermione Granger described as that by his… his…"

Before Dobby could finish speaking, his eyes suddenly widened in horror, as though his ears had just processed what his mouth was saying, resulting in him dashing over to the wall behind Natalie and proceeded to bash his head against it, yelling out "Bad Dobby! _Bad Dobby_!"

"Oh for crying out- _stop _that!" Natalie yelled, grabbing the small creature by his tattered pillowcase and yanking him back. "Rule number three while you're here is simple; _don't _beat yourself up like that!"

"And why did you _do _that anyway?" Hermione inquired, looking in confusion at the small figure before her.

"Dobby had to punish himself, miss," Dobby explained; Harry noted that his eyes had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, miss… it is clear that Dobby has insulted you by referring to you as such, Miss…"

"Your family?" Harry asked.

"The family Dobby serves, sir… " Dobby explained, looking pathetically at the children before him.

"Sorry; what's all this about your family?" Natalie inquired; Harry had to admit, given that magic was a totally new concept to her, she seemed to be coping with Dobby's presence rather well.

"They are the wizard family Dobby serves, Miss… Dobby is a house-elf, bound to serve one house and one family forever… if they ever knew Dobby was _here_…"

For a moment, the small creature almost seemed to shudder at the thought of what would happen to him if his presence was discovered, but then he regained control and continued speaking. "But Dobby had to come…. Dobby has to protect Harry Potter… to warn him that _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts this year_."

Harry blinked in surprise.

"Excuse me?" he said, looking in confusion at Dobby. "You've come all this way to tell me to stay _away _from Hogwarts? Why?"

"There is a plot, sir," Dobby explained; Harry noticed that the small creature kept on anxiously glancing around as though he was terrified that somebody would overhear him. "A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… but Harry Potter must not put himself in peril! He is too great, too good-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but Harry was in danger at school _last _year too- in fact, he ended up in a _coma _as a result of it- and he came out fine," Hermione pointed out as she looked critically at the house-elf. "Look, Dobby, we appreciate your concern for my brother, but… look, do you actually _know _what makes a 'great wizard' great?"

"Uh…" Dobby muttered, looking uncertainly at Harry for a moment before he spoke, his voice lacking some of the earnest eagerness it had possessed earlier, "Harry Potter is brave, powerful, wise, and much too nice to a poor house-elf?"

"Actually, I tend to think of a great wizard being someone who _does _great things," Harry stated, as he looked grimly at the small figure before him. He hated trying to _use _his 'reputation' like this, but, even as he spoke, he knew that he was only saying the truth.

If something dangerous _was _going to happen at Hogwarts, he was _going _to try and stop it, no matter how dangerous it was.

Besides… after learning the truth about his biological parents, even if he'd been suffering from a significant _lack _of contact with his school friends so far, he really wanted to learn more about the world they'd spent their lives in.

"Look, Dobby," he continued, as he crouched down to look the small creature in the eyes, trying to sound more confident than he felt, "I appreciate your concern for me, but if I'm going to _be _a great wizard, I need to have the opportunity to _stop _bad stuff happening, OK?"

"Uh… yeah… what he said," Natalie said, nodding slightly bemusedly as she looked at the small creature; she was evidently burning with curiosity about _why _Harry was a 'Great Wizard' in the first place, but she at least understood that now wasn't the time to ask about that.

For a moment, there was silence in the room as Harry, Hermione and Natalie looked anxiously at the elf, wondering if he would still tell Harry that he couldn't go to Hogwarts, but, finally, Dobby nodded.

"Very well, Harry Potter; Dobby shall not stop you going to Hogwarts," he said, as he looked at the young wizard. "Just… promise Dobby that you shall be careful."

Harry chuckled slightly.

"When am I _not _careful?" he asked casually as he looked at his 'sister' and cousin. Hermione briefly opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself in time; it wouldn't help their current problem if she recalled some of the times when Harry _hadn't _been careful…

"Dobby must go now, or Dobby's family will know," Dobby said, smiling slightly at Harry. "Dobby knows Harry Potter will become the greatest wizard ever!"

With that, the small creature clicked his fingers and vanished.

"Huh," Harry said, raising his eyebrow as he looked at the sight before him. "That was weird."

"Yeah…" Natalie said uncertainly, before she turned to look critically at Harry. "By the way, as long as we're here, do you mind telling me _why _that elf wanted to warn _you _in particular?"

"Ah," Harry said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that is a _rather _unusual story…"


	2. Off to the Burrow

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

The next morning, with the guests all having gone home and the presents and wrapping cleared away, Harry and Herrmione were sitting at the breakfast table, Harry munching on a piece of toast while Hermione sipped at her cup of water and waited for their parents to come down, each one of them reflecting on the events of yesterday.

Although the aftermath of Dobby's bizarre, brief little visit had gone rather well- despite Harry's fears, Natalie had found the whole 'Boy Who Lived' thing to be cool rather than anything else-, after Harry had managed to pull Alan and Jane aside to tell them about Dobby's arrival, it had been decided that they didn't have the time or the proof to convince Natalie's parents that their daughter, niece _and _adopted nephew were all capable of magic. The Grangers would try and think of something to convince them that they weren't crazy by the time of the McDonald's next visit, but until then, Natalie had promised to keep her discovery secret.

Alan and Jane, while not quite agreeing with Harry's reasons for not wanting to show the album as evidence, accepted that the album might not be that convincing; neither Harry or Hermione had told them about the cloak, and his Nimbus would have attracted too much attention if they'd used it, which left them with nothing that they could use at the moment; the school books could simply have been elaborate fakes, and they lacked the time and materials necessary to make a decent potion. As a result, Natalie had promised to keep quite about her magical status for the moment until the Grangers could come up with some incontrovertible proof that they weren't simply making up an elaborate story for the sake of it, and the Grangers would try and work out something they could use as proof.

All in all, though, Harry was grateful that he had somebody else in his family to talk to about his wizarding status. True, it would be difficult to talk much with Natalie about the whole thing- sending letters to her via Hedwig wouldn't exactly be easy, given that owls knocking at windows wasn't exactly the kind of thing Natalie's parents would miss- but it was the principle of the thing, really; it was one less person he needed to lie to when he was away from Hogwarts, and that was more than enough for him.

Harry was just getting up to prepare another piece of toast- as well as go up to see if his parents were awake yet- when there was a sudden sharp knocking at the kitchen window.

"What's…?" Hermione began, before she turned to look in the direction of the tapping and her eyes widened at the sight before them.

It was an old- _extremely_ old, it would appear- owl, with so many feathers moulting all over it that it bore more resemblance to a feather duster than a living being, looking at the two children inside the room with a letter clutched in its beak.

"Oh my word…" Hermione continued, as she stood up and walked over to the window, opening it to allow the owl to hop weakly into the kitchen. "Who in the world would send out an owl _this _old? The thing looks like it's going to die any second…"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes settled on the letter that the owl still clutched in its beak, despite it continuing to sway backwards and forwards in a manner that gave the impression that the thing was about to collapse at any moment.

Specifically, her eyes were fixed on the very familiar, somewhat untidy scrawl that Hermione had come to recognise all too easily from helping Ron go over his homework essays.

"It's from _Ron_?" she said, almost half to herself as she looked up at Harry in surprise. "After all this time, he's sending a letter to us _now_?"

"Mmm…" Harry said, nodding thoughtfully as he studied the letter he now held in his hands, before he opened it and began to read.

_Harry and Hermione,_

_What's up with you guys? Did I do something wrong or something? This is like the _twelfth _letter I've sent to you guys since term ended, and I _still _haven't received a reply. Are you not getting them, or are you mad at me for something?_

_If it's the second one, and you're annoyed because I screwed up or something during that whole thing with the Stone and the chess game and you're mad at me for it or whatever, I'm sorry, but you could at least _tell _me you're mad rather than just ignoring me all the time!_

_If you just haven't got any of the other ones, Mum was wondering if you two would like to spend the rest of the summer over her with the rest of us. It's all pretty quiet over here, at least; Fred and George occasionally like to test a few little jokes on us, Percy's just as much of a pain as he ever is, and Ginny keeps on talking about meeting you, but that's life, I suppose._

_Hope you reply to _this _one,_

_Sincerely,_

_Ron_.

Harry blinked slightly in surprise as he finished the note.

"He… he says he's sent letters _before _this one?" he said, looking up at Hermione in surprise as he studied the contents of the letter in his hand. "But… why haven't we received any of _them_?"

"Good question…" Hermione mused, nodding thoughtfully as she took the letter from her brother, clearly turning over the possible answers in her mind. "I mean, we've got no reason to believe he's _lying _about that, but if something's just been _stopping _us from getting letters rather than him just not writing them in the first place, why would we start getting them _now_?"

"Well…" Harry said, clicking his fingers for a few moments- a little trick he sometimes used when trying to inspire his mind to come up with a solution to a problem- before he looked back at Hermione, "the _obvious _answer is that something's changed recently which means that we can now _get _the letters, when we couldn't get them before… and, as far as we know," he continued, inspiration dawning in his eyes as he smiled at his sister, "only _one _thing has changed in the last twenty-four hours- apart from Natalie finding out about magic, of course."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Dobby was convinced to let us go back to Hogwarts!" she said, before she sighed and leaned over the table, her head clasped in her hands. "Well, at least _that_ mystery's sorted out; _he _was stopping the mail from getting through…"

"Yeah… must have been hoping that we wouldn't go back to Hogwarts if we thought nobody cared enough about us to bother writing…" Harry mused, before chuckling slightly as he glanced back at Hermione. "As if _that _could happen, huh?"

"Yeah, I've got to agree with you on that one," Hermione replied, a smile crossing her own face as she recalled the events of the past year. "I mean, Ron and the twins may have their issues, but they're definitely _not _the kind of people who'd just leave us high and dry like that for no reason; we'd have gone back to Hogwarts just to find out why they _hadn't _been writing to us…"

"Plus, you couldn't resist the opportunity to learn more about magic, huh?" Harry said, smiling slightly at his sister. "Y'know, you're _way _too easy to predict at times…"

"Oh, like you aren't _just _as eager to find out a bit more about magic?" Hermione retorted, smiling affectionately at him before she sighed and stood up, a slight smile on her face as she picked the exhausted owl up in the process. "I'll just take him up to Hedwig's perch and let Mum and Dad know about the letter, OK? I'm pretty sure they'll agree to us going over to the Weasleys' later on in the summer, but I'd just like to make sure soon."

"Fair enough," Harry said, nodding in agreement as he swallowed the last of his toast and stood up. "I'll join you; not much point in just one of us going up when the two of us could make a more convincing argument."

* * *

In the end, however, the term 'argument' turned out to be a serious exaggeration for the conversation that subsequently took place; Alan and Jane were perfectly willing for Harry and Hermione to visit the Weasley household for a couple of weeks or so until Hogwarts started once again. Having written the reply- omitting reference to Dobby; Harry would prefer to discuss that with the Weasleys face-to-face rather than mention it in a letter-, Harry had sent Hedwig to deliver it, the Weasley's owl remaining on her perch to try and recover its strength until it was ready to depart for home the following day. Given the rapid pace of owl post, Harry had little doubt that Hedwig would reach Ron's house in a matter of hours at most, and both he and Hermione went to bed that night with their bags packed and ready for 

The next morning, with their belongings all packed away the night before, Harry and Hermione had just finished a relatively late breakfast- they'd only managed to get around to eating by around half-past nine, having slept in the night before after watching a new movie Harry had been given for his birthday- when there was a ringing at the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" Harry said, smiling up at Alan and Jane as he hurried towards the door, opening it to see Ron standing there, a slight smile on his face and a tall man beside him who could only be his father. Mr Weasley was a thin man with receding red hair in the same shade as his assorted children, dressed in a dusty green robe and looking eagerly around himself.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said, smiling briefly at his friend before he looked up at the older man. "Hello, Mr Weasley."

"Oh, hello… you'd be Harry Potter, correct?" Mr Weasley said, looking down at him with a brief smile before he continued to study the house around him. "Incredible place you have here, just _incredible_…"

"Don't mind Dad; he's always enthusiastic about anything muggle-related," Ron said by way of explanation, before he glanced behind Harry and smiled slightly. "Hey, Hermione."

"Hi, Ron," Hermione said- she'd come up behind Harry while he was answering the door- before she glanced back to where Alan and Jane were standing at the stairs with a slight smile on their faces as they looked at their childrens' friend. "Oh, Ron, these are our parents; Mum, Dad, this is Ron."

"Good to meet you at last, Ron," Alan said, nodding briefly at the young red-headed boy before he turned to the man standing beside Ron and held out his hand. "Hello there; Alan Granger."

"Arthur Weasley; _pleasure _to meet you," Mr Weasley replied, taking Alan's hand and enthusiastically shaking it as he walked into the house, a broad smile on his face as he studied the walls of the house, the grin only becoming broader as he saw the switch by the door. "Good gracious, is that a _lightswitch_?"

"Um… yes, it is," Jane said, looking slightly uncertainly at the man before her; she clearly wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disturbed by the attention he was giving her house.

"Fascinating…" Mr Weasley muttered, half to himself, as he reached out and flicked the switch on and off, before looking inquiringly over at the Grangers. "Just out of curiosity, as long as your children are staying over, you wouldn't mind showing me around here at some point? I really find this all _fascinating_…"

For a moment, Alan and Jane exchanged glances, each of them clearly considering whether or not to agree to this man's request, but, finally, Jane nodded and looked back at Mr Weasley.

"Well, how does this sound?" she asked, looking inquiringly at the other adult. "You answer any questions we might have about the wizarding world while you're over here, and we'll answer any questions you have about the… muggle one; that's the correct term, right?"

"Really?" Mr Weasley said, looking eagerly at the Grangers as he smiled. "That would be _excellent_; when would you be available?"

"Yeah, uh, you guys just sort that out; Hermione and I'll get our things," Harry said, indicating the stairs; he and Hermione had left their bags up in their rooms until the last minute just in case they remembered something else they wanted to bring. Although it took them a couple of minutes to haul their bags downstairs (Even without actually packing for Hogwarts- they were intending to come back before the trip to platform nine and three quarters- the bags were still surprisingly heavy), neither Ron or his father seemed to mind about the delay. By the time they got back down, Mr Weasley was engaged in a clearly animated discussion with their parents, while Ron just studied his surroundings with a slight grin as though he wasn't sure whether he should be standing here and was enjoying his time looking around before somebody realised he wasn't meant to be there.

"We're ready," Hermione said, smiling slightly at the pleased-yet-bemused expressions on her parents' faces as Mr Weasley studied their toaster with a slight smile while Ron flicked briefly through a couple of Harry and Hermione's old comics that were lying around the room.

"Oh, really?" Mr Weasley said, looking up at the young witch with a brief expression of regret before he smiled, put the toaster down and looked back at the Grangers. "I'll see you… does next week work for you?"

"Oh… yes, that should be fine," Jane said, smiling in agreement at the other man before she turned to smile over at her children. "We'll see you in a week, OK? Have fun, and try to stay _out _of trouble for once, possibly?"

Hermione chuckled slightly.

"We'll try," she said casually. "We can't _promise _anything, of course, but we'll see what we can do."

* * *

After a couple of hours of driving- during which Harry sometimes had the distinct impression that the Ford Angila had taken a couple of routes that definitely _weren't _listed on any muggle map he'd looked at in his life- the car pulled up in front of a small house on the outskirts of a little village called Ottery St Catchpole. 

Even without knowing that the Weasleys were there, Harry knew at once that the house was magical; the fact that it looked like it was going to fall over at any second yet continued to stay up in defiance of all known laws of physics was one clear clue, as was the almost ridiculous amount of stories that it seemed to possess. Four or five chimneys were perched on the top of the building, a jumble of wellingtons and an extremely rusty cauldron surrounded the door, while various brown chickens pecked their way around the yard.

"It's not much, but it's home," Ron said, shrugging slightly as the car pulled up.

"It's _brilliant_," Harry smiled, as he glanced up at the house before glancing over at Hermione. "You have to admit, it's more interesting than some of the places we've been to."

"Tell me about it," Hermione chuckled, as she, Harry and Ron got out of the car while Mr Weasley moved to park it. "I mean, OK, so it _is _an architect's nightmare, but who cares about the little details like that, right?"

"Indeed," Harry stated, a slight smile on his face as he walked into the house. The first room they entered appeared to be a kitchen, although it was surprisingly cramped given how roomy the car had appeared to be when they were driving over here. Harry wondered if the charms that had made the car so roomy just didn't work on something that would need to serve as a permanent means of habitation and only worked when the person would only be in it for a few hours or so.

"Ah, Harry Potter, I presume?" a voice said from off to one side. Glancing in the direction of the voice, Harry smiled slightly as he saw Fred and George sitting at one end of the table, smiling up at him with an expression that suggested to Harry that he was going to be the victim of some elaborate joke at some point in his time here and they were just trying to work out what the joke would actually be.

"Indeed," Harry stated, folding his arms as he looked at the twins, a small smirk on his face as he did so. ""So, what are you two planning?"

"Planning?" one of the twins- Harry guessed Fred; he wasn't sure _how _he could specifically tell the difference, but there was definitely one there once you got to know them- said, holding one hand to his chest as though somebody had just stabbed him. "Harry, I am _insulted_-"

"That you would even _think_-" George said, taking up a similar posture to his brother.

"That we would _ever_-"

"Stoop so low-"

"And fall so far-"

"As to actually _prank_-"

"The boy who saved the world!"

"Oh, knock it off; you two would probably prank _Dumbledore _if you thought you could get away with it," Ron sighed, shaking his head with an amused grin on his face as he studied his brothers. "Anyway, where's Ginny and Percy?"

"Still in their rooms," George answered, shrugging slightly as he glanced over at Ron. "Don't suppose you've got any ideas about what they're doing in there, by the way? I mean, Perce has been sending all those letters lately, so it's not like it's anything new there, but _Ginny_? At _this _time of day?"

"Is that unusual?" Hermione asked, glancing over inquiringly at the youngest male Weasley.

"Well, given that Ginny's been talking about meeting you pretty much all summer- going out of her way to be up early to ask me as much as possible about you-, I'd have thought she'd be down here by now; it wasn't exactly a secret that I'd finally managed to get through to you after almost a _month _of trying," Ron said, a slight grin on his face before his expression became more serious. "Talking of which, what was all that about anyway?"

"Oh, we had some crazy house-elf trying to block our mail- well, we think it was him; he didn't say anything about it-, but the mail started coming after we convinced him we'd be going to Hogwarts regardless of his warnings about some plot to make something terrible happen this year," Harry explained, making a mental note to try and ask Hermione not to tease him about Ginny's eagerness for more information about him- a forlorn hope, he knew, but he'd have to try- before he looked more seriously at Ron. "On that topic, you remember that cousin of ours we mentioned was a witch?"

"Wait a minute; you've got _another _witch in the family?" Fred said, looking in surprise at Hermione, before a shocked expression crossed his face as though he'd just had a horrible thought. "_Please _tell me she isn't as scarily smart as you are?"

Hermione chuckled slightly at the expression on Fred's face. "No, she's only fairly smart; I'd put her at about Harry's level or something like that," she said, shrugging nonchalantly at the two redheads. "Anyway, you don't have to worry about her yet; she won't be coming to Hogwarts for another couple of years or so, so you've got plenty of time to improve your marks so that you're _not _being beaten in your exams by a first year."

"Ouch!" George said, clutching his heart with one hand as though he'd just been stabbed. "Hermione, that _really _hurts!"

"Oh, give it a break-" Harry began, only to be interrupted by the sound of a brief squeak as a door opened. Glancing in the direction of the voice, he only just had time to see a small red-haired figure wearing a blue dressing-gown over what looked like pink pyjamas- the dressing-gown made it hard to see anything clearly- before the door slammed shut once again and they heard the faint sound of footsteps hurrying back up the stairs.

"Well, there's Ginny," Ron said, chuckling slightly as he glanced over at his friend. "You'll want to watch out for her, Harry; she's been talking about you all summer."

"_That_ much, eh?" Hermione said, a slight grin on her face as she looked back at Harry. "Well, that's _definitely _something worth keeping in mind…"

"Oh God…" Harry groaned to himself.

If he recognised that look on Hermione's face, he was going to be teased _mercilessly_ about this for the rest of the summer…

* * *

AN: This chapter isn't as long as some of them, but I just reached a convenient place to end it and thought it was best to start the new one. The next one features some details of their time at the Burrow, the trip to Diagon Alley, and Harry's reaction to his sister's little 'celebrity crush'… 


	3. A Floo Detour

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

Fortunately, Harry's fears about how much teasing he'd receive regarding Ginny talking about him were apparently exaggerated. Over the course of the next week or so, the two Granger siblings- one adopted and one biological- soon came to feel like they'd discovered long-lost relatives at the Burrow. The Weasleys couldn't have been more welcoming to Harry and Hermione if they'd been related to the family of redheads, Mrs Weasley constantly making sure that they had at least a third helping available at mealtimes and Mr Weasley always asking them for further information about various muggle pieces of technology. Hermione would never be sure how they'd managed to get through his question about the purpose of a rubber duck with a straight face, to say nothing of when Harry was asked about how the muggle postal service managed to get letters where they were meant to go.

"_Fascinating_!" he said, smiling broadly as Harry explained the part that postal codes played in the postage process. "_Ingenious_, really, the ways that muggles have found to cope without magic."

However, although Harry and Hermione quickly established a friendly relationship with the Weasley parents, it was surprisingly harder to establish a relaxed friendship with all four of Ron's 'available' siblings (Their relationship with Bill and Charlie obviously wasn't relevant as neither of the two were here at present, although Hermione was eager to ask Bill about curse-breaking while Harry wouldn't have minded learning how Norbert was coming along). The two Granger siblings soon managed to establish as relaxed a friendship with the twins as one ever could- Fred and George apparently tended to surprise even their closest friends by pranking them at a moment's notice, making it hard for Harry and Hermione to ever completely let their guard down in a conversation with the two seemingly insatiable jokers-, but Percy spent most of his time locked up in his room writing several letters, and Ginny rarely came out of her room outside of mealtimes ever since Harry arrived in the house. Hermione sometimes managed to engage the younger girl in conversation whenever the boys were out playing Quidditch, but Ginny still seemed reluctant to talk to Harry himself, and even when in his presence she ended up doing what could only be described as a rather vivid impression of a tomato whenever he so much as asked her to pass the salt.

A few days after their arrival at the Burrow, Harry and Hermione finally heard from Hogwarts about their book list for the upcoming year. They'd just come to breakfast with Ron, only to find Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny already sitting there; the twins were typically late risers anyway, and Percy rarely ate with the rest of his family, preferring to spend time up in his room writing all those letters that nobody knew the purpose of and nobody really felt like asking about.

Harry had just sat down to start eating his bacon- Ginny had briefly knocked over her porridge bowl as Harry sat down opposite her, but he was trying not to draw attention to it for both their sakes-, when he suddenly registered the two identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink, sitting in front of their plates.

"The letters from school," Mr Weasley explained, indicating the envelopes in question. "Dumbledore already knew you two were here, apparently; doesn't miss a trick, that man."

"Ah," Harry said, nodding briefly at that- he wondered how Dumbledore had known that particular bit of information, but decided it wasn't worth worrying about right now- as he turned his attention back to the letter.

Second year students will require;  
_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Wanderings with Werewolves _by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Harry blinked in surprise at the various books on the list; _seven _different books by the same author on one book list? That seemed a bit… extravagant- although obsessive was probably the better term, now that he thought about it- in his opinion; the guy couldn't be _that _good at his job to merit them getting all of those books.

"You've been told to get all of Lockhart's books too?" Ron said, looking at Harry's list after taking a brief glance over his own. "This new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan- bet it's a witch."

Recalling the handsome-yet-(In Harry's opinion)-ridiculously-appearance-obsessed face that he'd seen on one of the Lockhart books in the Burrow's kitchen- something about _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pets_, he recalled the title had been-, Harry had to admit that the reasoning sounded good; that Lockhart guy _did _seem like the kind of person who'd attract a lot of female attention. Normally, he might have found it funny, but given that he'd once come down early to find _Hermione _looking at the picture with a look on her face that somehow combined the look she had whenever the two of them were playing with the look she had when she received a much-longed-for book for her birthday or Christmas- the same look that seemed to be trying to appear on her face at the moment as she studied the list-, well…

The joke lost at least _some _of its appeal when his sister was one of the people he'd be making fun of with it; some friendly teasing was one thing, but that was something he had absolutely no interest in teasing Hermione about and would far prefer to encourage her to get over the whole thing as soon as possible.

It wasn't that Harry was _jealous_ of Lockhart; he just didn't like the idea of some old guy who'd written a lot of books with stupid titles attracting _that _kind of attention from his usually intelligent sister. He'd tried to figure out some way to confront her about it, but it wasn't exactly the kind of thing you could just drop into casual conversation, and he was still figuring out a more tactful way to phrase his concerns about the way she kept mooning over that picture than 'What are you _doing_, you idiot?' He didn't want to sound like just some git of an overprotective brother, but on the other hand, he was sure it was some unspoken rule of his role _as _her brother that he stop her doing something like this before things went too far…

"That lot won't come cheap," George groaned from off to one side as he studied his own list; Harry had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't register that the twins had come down in the meantime. "Lockhart's books are really expensive."

"Well, we'll manage," Mrs Weasley said, trying to conceal her somewhat apprehensive expression from her children; Harry briefly thought about offering to help out with the school supplies, but decided he didn't want to draw too much attention to his financial situation and stayed silent. "I expect we'll be able to pick up some of Ginny's things second-hand while we're there."

"Oh, you're starting Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, looking politely over at her. Ginny, however, didn't respond like he'd hoped; she just nodded, squeaked, and stuck her elbow in the butter-dish, Percy's sudden arrival in the room being the only thing that prevented Hermione from noting down further material with which to tease him later.

"Harry and I'll owl Mum and Dad about it," Hermione said, getting up and glancing over at Harry. "We can all meet down at Diagon Alley and get everything together before we head back home; it saves us the trouble of getting a lift back home, if nothing else."

"Yeah, sounds good," Harry agreed, as he swallowed another bit of bacon. The two Grangers had been planning on picking the two of them up at some point in the next week or so, allowing them to spend their last week or so of the holidays back home before returning to Hogwarts, so this arrangement at least saved them the hassle of trying to arrange a decent time for Mr Weasley to take them back home via the car or something like that.

"I'll meet you up at the hill once I've written the letter, OK?" he continued, glancing over at Ron and the twins as he did so, both of whom nodded. The four of them had spent some time after Harry arrived practicing some flying skills in a small paddock that the Weasleys owned behind the house, but after a while Harry had insisted that Hermione be given some flying lessons as well- there was no telling when something like that could come in useful- and she'd started to join them. Harry had tried to ask Ginny- through Hermione, of course- to join them once or twice, but every time Hermione asked Ginny apparently squeaked and then became very occupied in studying a book or whatever was immediately available for her to look occupied with. They'd tried asking Percy once or twice, but he'd always turned them down, saying that he had 'something to do' in his room.

Given how much time Percy spent up there, Harry was rapidly reaching the point where he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Ron's older brother was doing up there; it would either be humiliating for him, or seriously disturbing for Harry if he found out, and if it was both, he _really _didn't want to know what it was…

_Ah well_, Harry mused to himself, as he ate the last of his bacon before heading up to write a quick letter to his parents about this latest chain of events- Hermione still didn't have an owl of her own so Harry tended to write all their letters for them-, _I suppose there's some mysteries you just can't solve; all you can do is wonder_.

Besides, it wasn't like it was a particularly _big _mystery; it'd be nice to know the answer, but since it seemed to something uniquely related to Percy, he wasn't that concerned about it.

* * *

A couple of days later, having been woken early by Mrs Weasley and given a few quick bacon sandwiches each, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys stood in front of the fireplace as Mrs Weasley picked a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece, peering inside it. 

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed as she looked up at her husband. "We'll have to get some more while we're out… ah well, guests first! After you, Harry."

As he stared at the pot Mrs Weasley was now holding out to him, Harry was silent for a few moments, desperately wracking his brains for some explanation as to why his hosts were offering him a pot full of some kind of dust, before a possible explanation occurred to him based on something he and Hermione had read in a book about magical transportation.

"Floo powder?" he asked, looking inquiringly up at Mrs Weasley, who nodded in confirmation.

"Really?" Hermione said, leaning over to look in the pot before turning to look at her brother with an eager smile on her face. "Well, this should be interesting; we've never done _this _before."

"You haven't?" Mr Weasley said, looking in surprise at the two of them. "But how did you get to London last time?"

"We took the underground-"

"Really?" Mr Weasley said eagerly. "Were there _escapators_? How exactly-?"

"Not _now_, Arthur," Mrs Weasley interrupted, looking critically at her husband before she turned back to the Granger children. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dears, but if you've never used it before-"

"Mrs Weasley," Hermione began, raising her hand in a calming gesture, "Harry and I both appreciate your concern, but we've read all about it in one of our books; I'm reasonably confident that we can use it properly."

Personally, Harry wasn't as convinced about that as his sister was- she tended to forget that practical experience could sometimes be more invaluable than just reading about something, no matter how detailed a description she'd read.

"Right then," Fred said, nodding slightly as he looked at the grate before taking a handful of the powder, "I'll go first, alright?"

With that, he threw the powder into the fire, which instantly turned bright green and rose higher than Fred. Apparently unconcerned about the flames, he stepped into the fire, called out "Diagon Alley!", and vanished.

"Just remember, you have to speak clearly when you do it, dears," Mrs Weasley said, as George took the powder and moved to the fire. "And mind you get out at the right grate; there's a lot of wizard fires to choose from, but as long as you've spoken clearly-"

"Got it," Harry said, taking advantage of the temporary distraction as George vanished into the fire to speak. "Don't worry, we'll be fine, and Mum and Dad will understand if things go a bit wrong; using something for the first time, they get that things can't be perfect."

"Well… all right," Mrs Weasley said, sighing slightly in resignation as she spoke. "Harry, you go in after Arthur- Hermione can go in next-, but be sure to clearly say where you're going when you step into the fire-"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron added; Harry wondered if the reasons behind that 'rule' were the same as the reasons why _Star Trek_ characters had to stand straight on the transporters, but soon decided he didn't want to know the answer.

"And shut your eyes," Mrs Weasley added. "The soot-"

"Don't fidget," Ron interjected, "or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace-"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Swallowing slightly- this was starting to sound a bit riskier than he'd expected- Harry stepped up to the fire and scattered the powder into the flames. Initially, the experience seemed almost pleasant- the fire felt like a warm breeze when he stepped into it- but then he got a mouthful of soot when he opened his mouth to speak.

"D-Diagon A-Alley!" he choked out around the soot, barely registering the concerned expression on his sister's face before he suddenly had the impression of being sucked rapidly down some kind of plughole. As he spun rapidly around, a deafening roar in his ears, he was forced to shut his eyes against the whirling green flames surrounding him, only vaguely registering as something bashed against his elbow. There was a brief feeling of cold hands all over his face, his stomach feeling like it was about to expel the bacon sandwiches he'd consumed barely minutes ago, and then he suddenly fell face-forward onto a hard stone floor and his glasses cracked.

Glancing up at his surroundings, Harry groaned as he took in the dimly lit wizard's shop around him; judging from the severed hand on a cushion, the bloodstained deck of cards (Did wizards actually _do _card tricks normally or was Exploding Snap the be-all and end-all of genuine card-related magic?), the malicious-looking masks and rusty spiked instruments hanging from the walls and ceiling, and, of course, the assortment of human bones, the odds of anything here being used in Hogwarts were mind-bogglingly slim.

He'd just begun to turn towards the door when he saw the tragically familiar platinum-haired form of Draco Malfoy walking past the window- Malfoy was probably the only thing about Hogwarts' daily life that Harry _didn't_ miss-, prompting him to turn around and hide inside a nearby cabinet, leaving only a small crack between the doors for him to peer through, seconds before Malfoy walked into the shop as a bell chimed. Peering through the crack, Harry watched as a tall, long-haired man who could only be Malfoy's father, possessing the same pale, pointed face and cold grey eyes, entered the shop behind him, looking critically at Malfoy as he reached for a glass eye.

"Touch _nothing_, Draco," he said bluntly.

"You said you were going to buy me a present," Malfoy said sulkily as he withdrew his hands, placing them back in his pockets as he turned to face his father.

"I said that I would buy you a racing broom," his father replied simply. Harry couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that comment; Malfoy claimed to have been flying for years, he'd practically flown circles around the Slytherin git his first time up in the air during their first flying lesson, and the guy _still _thought he could fly well?

Harry barely paid any attention to what the white-haired berk was saying- something about Malfoy thinking that the only reason Harry got on the team was because of his fame, regardless of the fact that Malfoy had _seen _how good Harry was for himself- as he crouched in silence, praying they wouldn't turn to look in his cabinet; the last thing he needed was to be discovered in this kind of condition.

As Harry peered out of the cabinet, a stooping man with hair almost as greasy as Snape's came out to the front desk of the shop, bowing slightly at Malfoy's father.

"Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," he said; Harry hadn't known it was possible for a man to sound that oily without actually spitting the stuff out every time he talked. "Delighted… and young Master Malfoy, too; charmed to meet you. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced-"

"I'm not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling," Malfoy's father stated bluntly, the man's face falling as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but Mr. Malfoy barely appeared to notice as he took a roll of parchment out of his pocket and unravelled it for Mr Borgin to read. "You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids, and I have a few- ah- items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"

"Surely they would not presume to search _you_, my lord?" Mr Borgin said, once again reminding Harry of a dog seeking permission to do… stuff… to its master's leg (He'd heard the phrase somewhere once and thought it fitted, although he wasn't entirely sure what it meant).

"I have not been visited yet," Mr Malfoy stated, his lip curled in a brief sneer. "The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act- no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it -"

Harry briefly fumed at that comment, but forced himself back to the more important issue at hand when he saw that Malfoy was rapidly approaching his hiding place. There was some momentary relief when Malfoy paused to ask about the withered hand- Harry was rather amused to learn that Hermione had apparently beaten Malfoy in every exam; he wouldn't mention it to her, of course, but it was still good to know-, but then he kept on drawing closer and closer to the cabinet… he was going to open it… Harry reached into his pocket to grip his wand…

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco; we're leaving."

As the Malfoy's departed the shop, Harry waited a few moments to allow Mr Borgin time to return to the back room where he'd been when he'd arrived, before he left the cabinet and headed for the door, clutching his damaged glasses to his face as he glanced around.

The street didn't look any more appealing outside than it had when he was inside the shop; the entire street seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts, with the one he'd just left- appropriately called Borgin & Burkes- looking like the largest, and other shop windows holding such things as shrunken heads and gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other, and a witch was approaching him holding what looked like a tray of human fingers.

Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight as he studied his surroundings while simultaneously sticking to the shadows as much as he could without making his actions obvious; he and Hermione had learned long ago that the best way to avoid the bullies who wanted to 'get even with them' for beating them in class was to avoid acting stealthy, because being too deliberately sneaky wouldn't get you anywhere.

True, the acquisition of his invisibility cloak last Christmas had pretty much made this particular skill relatively obsolete at Hogwarts, but Harry liked to think he could still avoid people without it if he had to.

As he reached the end of the alley, glancing back briefly to make sure he hadn't been followed- he briefly registered a large form that resembled Hagrid down the street, but didn't bother to look too closely at it, he turned back to see where he was now, only to hear a voice call out his name from behind.

"Harry?" Jane Granger said, looking in surprise at her adopted son as he somewhat sheepishly turned around to look at her, a slightly awkward smile crossing his face as he looked at them. "What are you doing here _alone_?"

"Oh, Mum, Dad, hi," Harry said, waving slightly sheepishly at them as he spoke. "Uh… would you believe that I had a bit of a mix-up while travelling by magic and came out of the wrong fireplace to everybody else?"

"_Fireplace_?" Alan said, looking in confusion at his son. "What do you mean, you came out of the wrong _fireplace_?"

"Long story going nowhere; it's all kinda dumb anyway," Harry replied, trying not to think too much about it; he still wondered how mispronouncing 'Diagon Alley' had sent him to some place called _Knockturn _Ally. "I just need to find the Weasleys-"

"_Harry_!" a voice yelled from behind him. Turning around, Harry was just in time to see the large number of redheads heading towards him before he felt the increasingly familiar sensation of a hysterical brunette brainiac lunging for him and wrapping her arms around him as she yelled at him (It seemed like Hermione had been doing this at least once a month or so ever since they'd started Hogwarts).

"_Can you for _ONCE _try and stay _SAFE_, Harry_?!" Hermione yelled, her arms so tightly wrapped around Harry that he felt convinced something was going to break. "_I mean, _GOD_, only you could screw up just getting to the _SHOPS!"

"Hermione, do you mind _not _suffocating your brother?" Jane asked, unable to stop a slight smile crossing her lips as she looked at her daughter. "He's perfectly safe, and you're not helping anyone with that…"

"What… oh, uh… hi Mum," Hermione said, parting from Harry and waving slightly sheepishly at her mother before an apprehensive expression crossed her face. "Uh, look… about this whole thing with Harry getting lost… it really _wasn't _the Weasleys' fault…"

Alan only chuckled slightly as he placed a reassuring hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione; I get that we all make mistakes at time," he said, before he looked back up at Mrs Weasley and held out his hand. "Hi; I'm Alan Granger, Harry and Hermione's father."

"Molly Weasley," Mrs Weasley replied, smiling brightly back at him. "A pleasure to meet you at last; Harry and Hermione have both been absolutely _excellent _company to have around the house this last week or so."

"Glad to hear it," Alan replied, smiling briefly at his children before looking up at Mr Weasley. "That reminds me, I managed to track down the old instruction booklets for some of our equipment in the house; I thought you might be interested in reading them."

"Oh, thank _you_!" Mr Weasley smiled, grinning gratefully at Alan as he shook the dentist's hand before he noticed Harry's glasses. Reaching over, he picked them off Harry's face, tapped them once with his wand, and returned them to Harry as good as new.

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Some place called Knockturn Alley," Harry replied.

"_Brilliant_!" Fred breathed.

"Depends on your definition of 'brilliant'; having to avoid someone holding a tray full of fingers is _not _my idea of a good time…" Harry muttered, before he realised what he was saying ant turned to look awkwardly at Alan. "And before you say anything, Dad, I was careful not to be seen, and I didn't buy _anything _that I shouldn't."

"Seeing that you didn't have _any _money that you could use here on you when you left home, that pretty much goes without saying," Alan said, chuckling slightly as he leaned over to ruffle Harry's hair slightly before he shrugged and looked back at Gringotts'. "Anyway, let's get going; the sooner you get your shopping done the better."

"Oh, that reminds me, talking of shopping, care to hear who I saw while I was _in _the alley," Harry said, looking over at the Weasleys with a slight smile. "Malfoy and Malfoy Senior, selling something in a shop called Borgin & Burkes."

"Selling, you say?" Mr Weasley said, looking over at Harry with a grim satisfaction on his face. "So, he's worried, is he? Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something…"

"You don't want to obsess too much over it," Mr Granger said, looking over at the other man as they entered Gringotts. "From what Harry's old me about that family's son, they sound like particularly bad news; I'm not saying you couldn't handle them, but you don't want to start anything until you _know _you can put something on him."

"I know, I know…" Mr Weasley shook his head as they walked towards the carts that would take them to the vaults. "I can dream, though, can't I?"

The journey to the vaults was enjoyable enough, but Harry greatly wished that he and the Grangers could have taken an alternative cart to the Weasleys after seeing their vault. The contents consisted of a small pile of silver sickles and just one gold galleon, with Mr Weasley practically falling into the corners of the vault before he emptied it. Harry and Hermione tried awkwardly to block the contents of Harry's vault from the Weasleys' view as they shoved a few handfuls of coins into a bag; the vault was large enough to contain more than enough money for both of them, but Harry didn't exactly want to rub his financial status into his friend's faces.

As they departed from Grinotts, after some quick arrangements to rendezvous at Flourish & Blotts to buy their schoolbooks in an hour, the group soon split up to attend to their shopping; Mr Weasley took the Grangers to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink to discuss the instruction manuals they'd brought him, Percy muttered about needing a new quill, the twins saw their schoolfriend Lee Jordan, and Mrs Weasley and Ginny were going to a second-hand robe shop. After purchasing some ice cream cones while walking along the street, Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the hour examining the various shops along the street, Hermione taking a few glances in the window of Magical Menagerie- she'd been thinking about a pet, but regular access to Hedwig meant that she didn't feel that it would really be worth her time getting an owl- while Harry picked up a couple of pieces of spare Quidditch gear in case anything was damaged in their upcoming games when school started once again.

They briefly noted Fred, George and Lee examining a box of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop– not wishing to fall victim to a prank of some kind, the three younger children stayed out of sight of the twins- and Ron noted Percy studying a book in a junk shop that had a title mentioning something about 'later careers', but none of them wanted to get close enough to find out what it was about. Percy's seemingly overwhelming obsession with his studies was enough to put any of them off spending too much time with him; even Hermione found him slightly disconcerting, although she freely acknowledged to herself that it was mainly because of Harry convincing her to have a bit more fun growing up than she might have had otherwise.

After an hour or so of wandering, the three of them finally headed towards Flourish and Blotts, only to find, much to their surprise, that it was completely jam-packed, with a large crowd of people- including a surprising number of witches- straining to get in. For a moment, Harry was puzzled by this surge of behaviour- surely people couldn't _all _be getting their schoolbooks on this exact same day?- but then he saw the banner above the shop and he groaned in frustration.

GILDEROY LOCKHART  
will be signing copies of his autobiography  
_MAGICAL ME  
_Today 12:30 PM to 4:30 PM

"We can actually _meet _him!" Hermione squealed, in a manner that was far too girlish for the Hermione Harry had grown up with. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist-"

"Which means he's a writer who's managed to get lucky with his novels; just because people buy a lot of his stuff is no indication of quality in my opinion," Harry retorted, glaring critically over at Hermione as he, her and Ron walked into the bookshop. "If nothing else, I'm not wild about his titles; they all sound kind of stupid to me."

Hermione seemed about to protest, but, after seeing their assorted families standing in the line already, they each just grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two_ and joined them in the queue.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…"

Groaning slightly, and grateful that at least _his _mum and Ginny didn't seem as obsessed with this good-looking berk as Mrs Weasley and Hermione, Harry tried to hide himself behind some of the adults to avoid attracting too much attention to himself. He may not have even met Lockhart yet, but if the constant preening his photographs did was any indication, Harry could already guess that this man would do pretty much anything to improve his own position in society, and getting his picture taken with the 'Boy Who Lived' would definitely count for _something_…

The man's appearance at the end of the queue, sitting behind a table in robes of forget-me-not blue, did little to change Harry's opinion of the guy; if anything, he seemed _more _vain than he had earlier.

_I mean, _Harry groaned to himself as a reporter shoved past hum, muttering something about having to take a picture for the _Daily Prophet_, _what is the _point _of having all those photos of himself around him? If he wants to look at himself why not just get a mirror and have it done with_…

"It _can't _be Harry Potter!" a voice suddenly yelled, breaking into Harry's train of thought. Glancing up, Harry only had just enough time to realise what had happened- Ron had been jolted to one side as the reporter pushed past him, leaving him in full view of Lockhart- before the man in question dived forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the front, grinning broadly as further photographs were taken.

"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said through his own gleaming teeth as he clasped Harry's hand in what was clearly intended to be a handshake if it weren't for Harry's lack of interest in ever coming into contact with this moron. "You and I together are worth-"

Harry didn't stop to think about it; exerting all the strength he could, he managed to break his hand free of Lockhart's grip as he dived towards the crowd only to realise that there was no space for him to get out. Laughing casually, as though this had all been pre-arranged, Lockhart stepped forward to pull Harry back, clasping his shoulder as though they were old friends.

"Ah, Harry; camera-shy as ever, eh?" he said, shaking his head slightly as he stage-whispered at the boy. "Don't worry; you get used to it."

Personally, Harry doubted this man had ever _been _camera-shy in the first place, but he was prevented from voicing his thoughts as Lockhart turned to address the shopful of people before him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"

Harry's eyes widened in horror as he spoke, the full implications of the book list only now settling in.

It may have been possible for the new Defence Against the Dark Arts to have assigned Lockhart's books to the list because she was a fan of his work, but there was one option that Harry hadn't considered…

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography- which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded again, ignorant of the increasingly shocked expression on Harry's face. "He had no _idea,_" Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me._ He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

If it hadn't been for the fact that his parents were in front of him, Harry was certain he would have sworn at that comment.

_This _berk was going to be teaching Defence? He'd have almost preferred Quirrell to this guy. The man may have had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head, but at least he'd actually given the sense of having some kind of respect for the severity of his subject; this guy seemed to be concerned with nothing more than selling his crap to as many people as possible. He barely even cared about the fact that he got practically every single book on the list free as Lockhart dropped them into his hands; biting his lip to avoid himself ranting at the man for taking every available opportunity to sell off a bunch of his books just to improve his own sales, as he hurried away from the man, finally spotting Ginny standing alone at one end of the shop- she must have become separated from the rest of her family- and walked over to join her.

"You have these," he said to Ginny, tipping the books into her cauldron; he may not have paid for them himself, but he got the impression that, as the youngest, she didn't get many things just for her, and he wanted her to have something new before she went to Hogwarts. "I'll buy my own…"

"Bet you loved _that_, didn't you, Potter?" a voice suddenly said from behind them.

"Oh, _God_…" Harry groaned, as he turned to glare at the approaching Malfoy, once again swaggering like he owned the place.

"_Famous _Harry Potter," he chuckled, smirking at Harry. "Can't even walk into a _book _shop without making the front page!"

"Leave him alone, he didn't want any of that!" Ginny yelled; Harry blinked in surprise as he realised she'd just spoken in front of him for the first time.

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend_!" Malfoy drawled, prompting Ginny to turn scarlet.

"You're pathetic, you know that Malfoy?" Harry retorted, trying not to pay too much attention to Ginny's blush; he wasn't sure how to deal with that right now, and didn't want to start thinking about it just yet until he had a clearer idea in his head as to how he should handle it. "I mean, if you're jealous, you could just come out and _say _so rather than trying to make fun of everything I've got that you haven't…"

Malfoy went scarlet as he suddenly reached into his robes.

"Just _try _it, Malfoy!" Ron hissed; he and Hermione had come up behind Harry and Ginny while they were talking to the ferret look-a-like in front of them. Harry could only hope Hermione hadn't heard all the details of his retort to Malfoy; the last thing he wanted was to give his sister _more _ammunition to tease him with…

"I have to admit, it's a bit surprising seeing _you _around here," Hermione stated, folding her arms as she glared at Malfoy with an expression that you'd normally expect to see on the face of someone who'd found a piece of dog's mess on their shoes. "I wouldn't have thought you'd have wanted to 'mingle with the commoners'."

"Not half as surprised as I am to see the Weasleys in a shop," Malfoy retorted, smirking over at Ginny and Ron as he spoke. "I expect your parents will go hungry for a month paying that-"

"If it's a choice between being a rich git and being a poor person who actually cares about somebody, I think I'd prefer being poor," Harry retorted, joining his sister as he glared at Malfoy. "At least I'd know people actually gave a damn about me, rather than just wanting to scrounge off my money; where it _counts_, the Weasleys are richer than you'll ever be."

"Agreed," Hermione said, trying to ignore the appreciative glances from Ron and Ginny at Harry's last statement, as the rest of their group moved to join them. "Now then, let's just get out of here before this-"

"Well well well- Arthur Weasley."

Harry nearly swore once again as Lucius Malfoy came up behind his son, Harry only now registering that both sets of parents had just joined them; this was _not _a confrontation he'd been looking forward to.

"Lucius," Mr Weasley said, nodding coldly at the man before him.

"Oh, so _you're _the father of that 'Malfoy' boy I've heard so much about?" Alan added, folding his arms as he stood beside his new friend and stared at the wizard before him; to his credit, he appeared unintimidated at the prospect of facing a real wizard.

"Indeed," Mr Malfoy replied simply, before he turned back to Mr Weasley as though Alan was completely beneath his notice. "Busy time at the Ministry recently, I hear. All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime."

Reaching into Ginny's cauldron, he pulled out a tattered copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ and studied it scornfully.

"Obviously not," he said, shaking his head as he studied it. "Dear dear; what's the point of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr Weasley retorted.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Alan and Jane, both of whom were staring resolutely at the man before them; after everything Harry and Hermione had told them about Malfoy, neither of their parents were willing to back down to someone whose only achievement as a parent seemed to have been a brat. "The company you keep, Weasley…and I thought your family could sink no lower."

Mr Weasley suddenly leapt forward, knocking Mr Malfoy to the ground and sending Ginny's cauldron flying. Malfoy moved as though he was going to pull out his wand, but, recalling a move he'd seen in a film once, Harry stuck out his leg and lashed out with a brief kick at Malfoy's foot, sending his school rival crashing to the ground in a heap. Harry vaguely registered calls of encouragement from the twins and please from Mrs Weasley for Mr Weasley to stop, but then a loud voice broke out over the din that Harry recognised all too well.

"Break it up, gents, break it up!" Hagrid's booming voice yelled as the gamekeeper strode forward, pulling Mr Malfoy and Mr Weasley apart; Harry was pleased to note that Mr Weasley came away with only a cut lip while Mr Malfoy's right eye appeared to have been hit by the _Encyclopedia of Toadstools_. Fuming, Mr Malfoy tossed Ginny's Transfiguration book at her, muttering something about it being the best her father had to offer her before he walked out of the shop, leaving Malfoy to pick himself up and hurry after his father.

"Pathetic as always, huh?" Harry chuckled, jerking his thumb after Malfoy as he glanced over at Ron. "Goes on and on about his superiority, but kick him once and stop him using a wand and he's as good as useless."

"I hope you don't _always _use physical means to solve your problems," Jane put in, looking critically down at her son as Mrs Weasley helped her husband back onto his feet. "You know how your father and I feel about that…"

"Don't worry, Mum; any time Harry's hit the guy, it was to stop the guy hitting _him _first," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly at her mother.

"Hermione may have a point about the kid, but yeh still should've ignored the father, Arthur," Hagrid said, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes before looking over at the Grangers. "Don't worry 'bout them, Mr Granger; rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that- no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter- bad blood, that's what it is."

"If they're as obsessed with blood purity as I've heard, I can believe it," Alan mused, shaking his head slightly as he looked after Malfoy. "I'm surprised he doesn't look more ridiculous than he does; from what Hermione's told us about the blood purity obsession in the wizarding world, I would have thought that pure-blood wizards would be so close to extinction that inbreeding would have caused more serious genetic defects…"

"Eh, look at it this way; either he'll have to betray his principles, or his kid'll be so screwed up the line'll probably end there," Harry said, smiling slightly to show that he was joking (It was only a partial joke, but a joke nevertheless) as they walked out of the shop.

"Anyway," he said, as he turned to look back at the Weasleys with a slight smile, "Hermione and I'd best be off; we'll see you at King's Cross in a week or two, OK?"


	4. An Unusual Arrival

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: Hope this chapter goes OK; I'm having a bit of trouble finding a balance between Harry's more emotionally-aware self- who will actually make more of an effort to talk to Ginny- and Ginny's own natural insecurities- which drive her to the diary and away from Harry-, but I think I've got something that works

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

After the intriguing first-hand look at daily life in a wizarding household, Harry and Hermione initially found it slightly hard to settle back into a routine that didn't incorporate some of the elements of the magical world, such as dishes that washed themselves once you'd eaten from them. However, their 'discomfort' only lasted for a few hours on the first day; once that was past, they easily settled back into their regular routines at home, checking over their schoolbooks and preparing for their lessons.

It barely seemed like a week had passed when the day that school would start again at last came about. With everything having been packed away in their trunks the night before, the morning's only real concern was to get everything in the car and get down to King's Cross in time to meet up with the Weasleys.

As it turned out, however, the Weasleys ended up being remarkably later than any of them had expected; the Grangers had arrived at Kings' Cross with over half an hour to spare, but subsequently spent most of that time waiting for the Weasleys to actually show up, sitting in a bench by platform nine and trying to avoid the glances of any of the wizarding families that passed them by. Finally, the Weasleys arrived, prompting a relieved sigh from Harry and Hermione as the two of them stood up and walked over to join their friends.

"Oh, you're just here?" Mrs Weasley said, looking in surprise at the Grangers. "I would have thought you'd have gone on in already."

"Well, we would have, but these two wanted to wait for you all," Alan said by way of explanation, smiling slightly at his children.

"Eh, y'know, these carriages tend to get a bit dull with nobody but the bookworm to talk to…" Harry shrugged, earning himself a light poke in the shoulder from Hermione in the process.

"_I'm _the bookworm?" she said, looking teasingly at him. "_You're _just as education-focused as I am, you know!"

"Yes, but you started doing all that reading when you were old enough to understand that the black squiggles in books were actually words; that's not _quite _the same thing as me," Harry pointed out, smiling affectionately over at his sister as he rolled his eyes before looking back at the Weasleys. "Anyway, let's just get onto the station, OK? We've only got a few minutes left."

"Right then," Alan said, as he looked up at Mr Weasley, "let's get them onto the platform; we can talk more later."

"Agreed," Mr Weasley said, nodding in confirmation as he turned to look at his children. "Percy, you and I will go first; Mr and Mrs Granger, you can take Hermione next; Fred, George, Ron, you go after them; and Harry, Ginny and Molly can follow afterwards."

Harry momentarily thought about protesting to the arrangements- he'd prefer to have gone on first and picked out a carriage with the others straight away-, but, if it meant the chance to talk a bit more with Ginny and try and encourage her to stop doing mouse impressions when he was around, he supposed that he could deal with it…

And he had _no _idea where that thought had come from, and he was _definitely _not going to mention it to Hermione.

As Percy and Mr Weasley walked casually through the barrier, Harry moved to the back of the makeshift 'queue' they'd formed after the order of entry had been sorted out, and smiled at Ginny.

"So," he said, looking casually at the red-haired girl beside him, "anything in particular that you're looking forward to when you get to Hogwarts?"

Looking up at him as though she couldn't believe he'd just spoken to her, Ginny looked for a moment as though she was about to bolt, but, after a moment of uncertainty, she swallowed and spoke.

"Well… quidditch…" she said, blushing slightly as she tried to avoid looking at him as her father and brother walked through the barrier before them. "And… well, Transfiguration…"

"Yeah, and History of Magic has its merits," Harry chuckled, leaning in to whisper his next tip into her ear as Hermione and his parents went through the barrier. "Don't tell Hermione I told you this, but it's brilliant for catching up any sleep you've missed in the last nights, and Professor Binns doesn't care about it."

Ginny raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a slight giggle at that thought as Ron and the twins walked through the barrier once again. Glancing up at the clock, Harry smiled slightly in relief; they still had a couple of minutes before the train was due to depart, even if it did look like they were the last ones on the train judging by the lack of anyone from Hogwarts around them.

"Right then," Mrs Weasley said, looking over at the children just as Ginny was about to respond to Harry's last comment, "time we were off, dears; we've only got a few minutes."

Making sure that Hedwig's cage was correctly positioned on top of his luggage, Harry turned his luggage trolley towards the barrier in front of him, bent low over the handlebars, and glanced over at Ginny to confirm that she was ready beside him before the two of them began to purposefully walk towards the barrier, breaking into a run in the last few moments-

Only to crash into the wall as though it was nothing more than a conventional wall?

_OK_, Harry mused to himself, glancing anxiously at his watch as Ginny turned to look concernedly at her mother, _I don't know much about this part of Hogwarts, but I do know that the barrier closing like that _can't _be a good thing_…

"Wh-what happened?" Ginny said, looking anxiously at her mother. "I-I'm going to miss the train-"

"Now, don't panic, dear," Mrs Weasley said, as she looked sternly between her daughter and Harry, "I'll try and contact Dumbledore; you two just wait here, understood?"

With that, she hurried off down the platform, evidently intending to find a private location to send a message to the headmaster, leaving the two children to wait outside the barrier. After a moment's silence, during which Ginny leaned against the barrier as though she was trying to push the pillar over, Harry finally decided to break the quiet and looked inquiringly at her.

"So," he asked, trying to sound as though nothing was wrong, "assuming your mum's strategy doesn't work out, do you have any other ideas how we'd get there?"

Unfortunately, this latest incident appeared to have sent Ginny back somewhat in terms of the progress she'd made in talking to Harry; whether it was because she was embarrassed at the recent incident or something else, Harry wasn't sure, but she just squeaked in embarrassment and began studying the barrier with intense interest.

Finally, after a few moments of inactivity- Harry didn't feel like trying to talk to Ginny again to give her some time to get her composure back and Ginny just didn't seem to want to say anything-, Mrs Weasley finally came back, smiling casually at the two of them.

"Well, I flooed Dumbledore and he said the two of you can floo straight to his office from the Burrow," she said, smiling reassuringly at them. "Just hold on to me and we'll apparate back there."

"Wait; apparate?" Harry said, looking inquiringly at her. "As in… just travelling back there by magic?"

"Of course; what else?" Mrs Weasley replied, smiling over at him. "Arthur and I don't do it normally, of course- with so many children it would be difficult at the best of times, to say nothing of where he'd apparate to once we got here-, but getting back home from here's easy enough. Professor Dumbledore will be able to deal with whatever's wrong with the barrier easily enough, but for the moment he thinks it's best that you two get to Hogwarts as soon as possible."

"Uh… great," Harry said, smiling slightly awkwardly at her as he and Ginny grabbed their suitcases. On the one hand, it would be great to be back at Hogwarts early, but on the other hand, being there with only Ginny for company could make things a bit… uncomfortable, for lack of a better term… if her current attitude towards him was any indication.

Still, if it meant getting to school _without _having to risk detention at least and expulsion at worst, he supposed he could cope with a few hours of discomfort.

"Right then," Mrs Weasley said, glancing around King's Cross briefly before her eyes settled on the entrance. "Just follow me and keep a hold of everything; we can probably get back in one go, but the tighter a hold you have on your things the better."

Nodding in understanding, the two children took a hold of Mrs Weasley's offered hands while trying to maintain a grip on their suitcases- Harry knew he'd have to make it up to Hedwig for his somewhat rough treatment of her while carrying her cage under his arm-, and hurried out to stand in a conveniently concealed corner in the station.

"Got everything?" Mrs Weasley asked, glancing down at the two children with a reassuring smile. "Good; now, hold on…"

There was a sudden blackness, and Harry suddenly felt as though he was being pressed on very hard from all directions, his eyes being pressed into his skull, his eardrums felt like they were about to burst, his chest had iron bands around it-

Then, almost as soon as it had begun, Harry was once again gasping for air, standing outside the Burrow with Ginny and Mrs Weasley, their luggage still in his and Ginny's hands, although Hedwig was looking increasingly flustered at all this rough treatment.

Having apparated for the first time in his life, Harry could easily see why the Weasleys didn't just take their children to the Express that way; it definitely wasn't going to be his favourite means of transport any time soon.

"Right then," Mrs Weasley said, hurrying the two of them into the Burrow's kitchen, "you two just take the floo powder and head to Professor Dumbledore's office; he said he'd go to King's Cross to see what had happened to the barrier as soon as you two were in. Harry, you're to keep an eye on Ginny and make sure she stays out of trouble until the other first-years arrive; she'll be sorted with them, but Dumbledore doesn't want her going into any house dormitories until she actually has a house."

"Uh… OK," Harry said, nodding slightly at Mrs Weasley as he and Ginny carried their bags into the kitchen. "You'll let Mum and Dad know what happened when they get out of the platform, right?"

"Of course," Mrs Weasley said, smiling affectionately at him. As she went to collect the pot of floo powder- restocked since the last visit to Diagon Alley-, Harry made a mental note to try and find somewhere in the castle that Snape wouldn't think to look for the two of them; the last thing he needed on his plate right now was the sour Potions master showing up while they were waiting for everyone else to arrive and making Ginny even _more _uncomfortable than she already was.

As they reached the fireplace, however, Harry pushed such thoughts out of his mind to focus on the main issue at hand. Taking a handful of the powder, he threw it into the fire, smiled slightly as the green flame appeared- floo powder wasn't the most pleasant means of travel Harry had encountered, but he _did _like the effect it created in the fireplace-, stepped into the fire, called out "Hogwarts!"…

* * *

A few seconds later, he found himself tumbling to the floor in a large room that Harry could only assume was Professor Dumbledore's office. Having put his luggage down and opened Hedwig's cage, allowing the owl to fly out of a nearby window and head for the owlery after shooting a disgruntled look back at him, Harry allowed himself a few moments to look around the office he had found himself in.

The room was large and circular, full of funny little noises that presumably originated from the various unusual silver instruments standing around on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of wizards that Harry assumed were old headmasters and headmistresses, all currently snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, the Sorting Hat located amid the shelves of books behind it, and-

Before he could take in any more, there was another brief blaze behind him, and Ginny stumbled out of the fireplace, nearly colliding with his own luggage before he managed to grab her and stop her hitting anything.

"Ah, you're here," Professor Dumbledore's voice said from off to the side, prompting Harry to rapidly release his hold on Ginny before the two of them turned to look in the direction of the voice, to see Dumbledore walking down from an upper part of the office. "I understand that the barrier refused to work for you when you, Miss Weasley and Mrs Weasley tried to use it, despite it having proven successful for your families mere moments previously?"

"Uh… yeah, that's as much as I know," Harry said, nodding slightly at the headmaster as he and Ginny moved to pick up their luggage. "Sorry I can't be more help…"

"Think nothing of it, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, smiling slightly at the two children before him. "After all, if life did not still have some surprises to show me at my age, the world would be a dull place indeed. You two simply leave your luggage here and head down to the library or the main hall, according to your preference; your cases will be taken to your dorms after the Sorting Ceremony. I will head to King's Cross and see what can be done about this barrier that has been placed around the entrance to the platform."

"Uh, Professor-" Harry began, only for Dumbledore to nod in confirmation at him.

"I assure you, Harry, I will let your parents know what happened to you as soon as I can," he said, as he turned and headed for the stairs. "I shall see you both at the Sorting Feast… and Miss Weasley?" he added, turning back to smile slightly at Ginny. "Welcome to your first year at Hogwarts."

As Dumbledore departed down the stairs, Harry shrugged and turned back to look at Ginny, who was once again making a concentrated effort to show a significant interest in the floor rather than him.

"OK," he said after a moment's pause, having established that she definitely wasn't going to break the silence on her own, "we've got a few hours until anybody's meant to show up, and I'm not sure where Hagrid's going to be given all that he's probably got to deal with at the moment, so… is there anything you'd like to see while we're here?"

For a moment, there was silence, and then Ginny mumbled something under her breath that sounded a bit like 'Quidditch'.

"Quidditch?" Harry repeated, looking inquiringly at her. "Uh… you want to go to the Quidditch pitch for a bit?" (He really wished she'd speak; he hated talking to her like she was an idiot or a little child, but he needed to clarify what she was saying and she wasn't making it easy for him to do that.)

After a moment where Ginny seemed to turn an even brighter shade of red, she nodded slightly.

"OK then," Harry said, indicating his luggage, "I'll get my broom, we'll get some lunch, and then we can see about getting one of the school brooms for you; sound fine?"

At that, Ginny looked up.

"I get to fly too?" she said softly.

"Uh… sure," Harry said, looking in slight surprise at her. "What; did you think I'd just take you there and fly myself? You've been around Fred, George and Charlie for most of your life, and they're all good fliers from what I've heard; I figured that you'd had some practice… right?"

After another moment's silence, Ginny nodded.

"Yeah… I spent most of my nights back home since I was six going into the broomshed to fly around," she said, trying not to look too much at Harry as she awkwardly studied her feet. "If you'd rather I just stay on the ground…"

"What, and fly around on my _own_?" Harry said, smiling at her; at least _this _might help him get through her self-erected shell. "Not a chance; if you know what to do, you're coming up with me, OK?"

Looking back at him, Ginny smiled uncertainly and nodded.

"Great," Harry said, indicating the doorway to Dumbledore's office. "Let's go; I'll be right behind you."

* * *

A few hours later, lunch having been eaten- which had been more filling than most meals Harry had normally had in Hogwarts, most likely because it had only been the two of them this time around to provide food for-, Harry and Ginny landed after their flying session, the two of them laughing together as they came down to the ground once again.

"_Wow_…" Harry said, looking back at the sky above them before he turned back to look at Ginny. "You were _great _up there, you know!"

"Really?" Ginny said, looking over in surprise at Harry. "Y-you mean that?"

"Of course," Harry said, smiling back at her. "Seriously, your practice back home definitely paid off; when you become old enough, you should try out for the team if there's a spot available."

"I'll… well, I'll remember that," Ginny said, smiling slightly back at him before her face fell suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked, looking anxiously at her as he noticed her change of expression. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing," Ginny said, her voice suddenly subdued as she turned away and glanced at her watch. "I think the Express'll be arriving in a few minutes; I'd better go and ask Professor McGonnagall where I wait."

"Ginny, don't change the subject," Harry said, looking inquiringly at her. "What did I say-?"

"_Nothing_," Ginny said, before she ran off, leaving Harry staring bemusedly after her for a moment before he thought back over what he'd said and inspiration struck him.

_Nuts_… he groaned to himself, as he picked up his broom and began to head towards Gryffindor Tower to leave his broom in his dorm. _I _had _to mention the team, didn't I… the team she's not even going to have the _chance _to join for another _four years_…_

Since Harry doubted Ginny had any interest in playing Keeper- she didn't strike him as having the right build for that kind of role-, that meant she'd have to wait around four years to be in for a chance at having _any _kind of role on the team…

_Which, for her_, Harry groaned in his mind,_ is probably just a reminder of _another _way where I'm unique; I was the youngest Seeker in a century and I got the position without even _trying_, while she's going to have to work for it…_

It seemed that even when he was trying to _comfort _her, he ended up making a mess of things.

For once- just _once_-, he'd like to be able to get through a day in the wizarding world without his 'celebrity status' being rubbed in his face…

Resolving to try and figure out a way to assure Ginny that he didn't think of her as a little girl- she was really rather fun to spend time with, as far as he was concerned-, Harry hurried towards the Gryffindor portrait hole as fast as he could. By his estimation, he had about forty minutes or so to leave his broom there and get back down to the great hall before the others arrived (He was hopeful that either the password would have remained the same from last year or that the Fat Lady would tell him the new password as the first student there).

* * *

Having deposited his broom by his bed- the password had been changed, but the Fat Lady had told him the new one willingly enough- Harry had no sooner sat down in the Great Hall- trying to ignore Snape's glare in his direction; he wouldn't put it past the Potions Master to assume that Harry had blocked the barrier himself just so he could have an excuse to get to Hogwarts early- than the main door opened and the rest of the students poured into the hall. Turning around, he smiled slightly as he saw Ron and Hermione at the front of the group, the two of them instantly heading to sit on either side of him.

"What _happened_ to you?" Hermione asked, looking in frustration at him. "Mum and Dad were so _worried _when you didn't show up; they only let _me _get on the train because they didn't want us _both _to miss school…"

"Trust me," Harry said as he looked back at her, "if I knew what had happened back there, I'd tell you; all I know is that the barrier was blocked when Ginny and I tried it, so we ended up flooing to Dumbledore's office and spending some time milling around here until you showed up and she went to join the other first years."

"'Milling about'?" Ron said sharply, looking at Harry with a warning glare. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, you know," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant, "looking over some stuff in the library, showing her around the castle…"

He shrugged dismissively. "Stuff like that, you know; nothing major."

Ron nodded slightly as he turned back to look at the staff table, the Sorting Hat now positioned in front of it, but Harry knew Ron too well to believe that this particular conversation was over that easily. However, further thought was put aside for the moment as the Hat opened its 'mouth'- as Harry thought of the large rip at the bottom of the Hat as- and began to sing.

_The hall is lit with candles tall._

_The year, it has turned._

_The leaves are changing, soon to fall._

_The students have returned._

_New faces peer, full of fright._

_How shall we sort you out?_

_Time to choose, get it right_

_I'll see smiles, nary a pout._

_Fair Ravenclaw, a clever lot,_

_Have minds honed and sharp._

_Those Slytherin have clever plots,_

_Tuned to ambition, played like a harp._

_Oh Hufflepuff, steadfast and true_

_They never carp, hard workers all._

_Gryffindor, the courageous few-_

_Against their foes, they never fall._

_As a thinking cap, I am no fool._

_I'll see your place, your proper nook._

_The founder's helper, Godric's tool,_

_Put me on, I'll have a look._

As the song ended, the students burst into polite applause, which ended as Professor McGonnagall began to read out the names of the students to be sorted. Harry barely even paid much attention to the other students, simply clapping on almost automatic whenever he heard 'Gryffindor' being yelled out, his eyes and ears constantly alert for any sign of Ginny. The closest he came to being distracted was when a small, mousey-haired boy made a beeline for the seat between him and Hermione; Harry had to politely explain to the boy that he was saving it for a friend and wave him on to another part of the table, trying to ignore the gaze of almost hero-worship on the boy's face as he looked back at Harry.

Finally, when Ginny's name was called and she sat under the hat, Harry allowed himself a relieved smile as the hat called out "GRYFFINDOR!"; he'd been fairly confident that she'd end up there based on what he'd seen of her personality, but at the same time he'd been worried that her 'panic attacks'- for lack of a better term for how she'd reacted around him- could have affected her chances.

After the last new student had been sorted, Dumbledore stood up and smiled out at them.

"And welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said, smiling out at the students. "There is a time for speech-making, but this is not yet it! Please, tuck in!"

Over the course of the meal, Harry took the opportunity to catch up with some of the other students about what they'd done over the summer, their tales ranging from Neville gathering some new plants for his grandmother's greenhouse to Seamus Finnigan having spent his holiday in America; all interesting, but nothing particularly noteworthy.

Not that Harry minded about a lack of excitement, of course; as far as he was concerned, having taken on Voldemort last year and lived to talk about it, he would be perfectly happy to have a quiet, normal school year this time around.

After the last of the students had finished their food, Dumbledore stood up, instantly silencing the gossip around him.

"Now then," he said, smiling around at the students, "with us all satisfied from that excellent dinner, I have a few announcements to make. Firstly, first year students- and some of our older ones, of course- should note that the Forbidden Forest is precisely that. Also, I would like to take this opportunity to announce that the position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year will be filled by the extremely well-known Gilderoy Lockhart, who I am sure you will all show a very warm welcome to."

As the students- primarily the female ones- applauded Lockhart, the new professor stood up and waved politely at the students, smiling broadly at them as he did so, attracting several sighs from the girls at the tables. Looking over to his left, Harry couldn't stop himself from wincing slightly at the sickening way his sister was gazing in Lockhart's direction.

Sending up a brief mental prayer to hope that something would happen that would give him the opportunity to knock some sense into Hermione about that prick, but knowing that he couldn't do anything about it for the moment- like him, it took a while for Hermione to realise that she was wrong about something-, Harry turned away from his sister as the tables stood up and began to leave the great hall, both to avoid seeing that 'look' on her face longer than he had to and give him some time to try and come up with ideas to make her see sense.

Even as he began to walk back towards his dorms, making a mental note to send a letter to his parents the next morning to make sure that they knew what had happened to him, he couldn't stop himself from hoping that, whatever was going to happen to Lockhart to make Hermione see what an _idiot _the guy was, it happened sooner rather than later.

He respected his sister's right to make her own decisions, but, as her brother, Harry also reserved the right to make her see sense as soon as possible before she made an idiot of herself.


	5. Class with Gilderoy Lockhart

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: The Harry/Lockhart conversation is inspired (And, indeed, partly comes from) S'Tarkan's _fantastic _story _Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past-_ an absolutely incredible look at an AU aftermath of _Half-Blood Prince _that left the wizarding world decimated and Harry the sole survivor- and is used with his permission. If you haven't read the story yet, do it (Trust me, you'll be VERY glad you did so; the plot and characterisation are superb, and it has some _brilliant _lines in it. I mean, Ron calling Riddle a ponce in the Chamber of Secrets? How often do you read about something like _that _happening?)

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

The next morning, despite the slight handicap of having been unable to apologise to Ginny about his slip up the previous evening- she seemed to be making a serious effort to avoid him, presumably out of embarrassment-, Harry had to admit that the year seemed to be off to a good start. Having had breakfast and been given his class schedule, he, Ron and Hermione found themselves heading down to the greenhouses to begin their first lesson of the second year. The fact that they'd moved to Greenhouse Three as opposed to Greenhouse One- which they'd used for almost all of their first year- was the most immediate clue that something new was going to take place this year, a theory that was only confirmed when, upon entering the greenhouse, Harry noted the large box of earmuffs in the middle of the room, in front of the trestle bench that Professor Sprout was standing behind.

"Right then," Professor Sprout said, as the class took their seats, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

After a momentary glance between the two of them, Harry's hand went up in the air first, followed closely by Hermione's; on occasions where both of them knew that they knew the answer to a given question, they both tended to raise their hands in a pre-decided order to give each of them an equal chance to answer questions, and this time it was Harry's turn to go first.

"Yes, Mr Potter?" Professor Sprout said, looking inquiringly at him.

"Mandrake- I think it's also known as Mandragora, right?" Harry said, pausing briefly to allow Professor Sprout to nod in confirmation before he continued. "It's a powerful restorative, commonly used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Precisely. Take ten points for Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said, nodding in approval at Harry. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes, but it is also dangerous; can anyone tell me why?"

This time it was Hermione's turn to put her hand up.

"The cry of the mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she clarified.

"Exactly. Another ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

As she indicated the purplish-green plants that were all that was currently visible of the mandrakes, Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling slightly at the confused expression on Ron's face; evidently he was wondering what Hermione had meant by the 'cry of the mandrake' comment.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," Professor Sprout said, looking authoritatively around at the class. "As these mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet, but their cries can knock you out for several hours, so keep your earmuffs on when you're re-potting them, understand? Everyone get your earmuffs on and I'll demonstrate the proper procedure; do _not _remove the earmuffs until I say so."

As the students pulled the earmuffs on, Sprout, having made sure everybody was wearing them, pulled the first mandrake out of the pot, revealing the infant-like, pale green, mottled-skinned-form of the mandrake as opposed to the roots that would have been expected from a conventional plant, clearly screaming in rage as Professor Sprout forced the creature back into another pot before indicating for the class to remove their earmuffs.

"Now then," she said, looking around at the class, "four to a tray to begin re-potting the mandrakes, and ensure your earmuffs are secure before you begin; I will attract your attention when it's time to pack up. There is a large supply of pots here, compost in the sacks over there, and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

After the tables had divided up into their various groups and the compost and pots had been gathered together, Harry was only slightly surprised to register the presence of a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy at the table; they'd never worked in anything larger than threes last year, so he hadn't fully registered the fact that there'd be someone outside their 'Trio' at their table.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," the boy said, smiling and holding out a hand to Harry's as he registered the other boy's inquiring gaze. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter… and you're his adopted sister Hermione, pretty much always top in everything," (Hermione looked as though she wasn't sure whether to be proud at the compliment or annoyed at being referred to as 'Harry Potter's sister'), "and you're Ron Weasley; your brothers are on the quidditch team, aren't they?"

For a moment, Harry felt almost relaxed talking to this guy, but then the next words out of his mouth automatically lowered Harry's opinion of him.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" the Hufflepuff said happily, as the group began to filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and- zap- just _fantastic_. My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family-"

"Can we just get on with this?" Harry said impatiently, as he snapped his earmuffs on, ending the conversation. He knew it wasn't exactly polite, but if he had to listen to this guy praise Lockhart's name any more, he might punch something in frustration.

The class almost succeeded in making him want to punch something on its own, though. The mandrakes were easily some of the most frustrating plants Harry had ever worked with; they didn't want to come out of the pots, but they seemed equally reluctant to go back into them afterwards. Harry spent around ten minutes trying to cram a particularly fat one into a pot as it kicked, bit and silently yelled in protest. He'd never been more grateful to get out of the greenhouses and back to the castle for Trasfiguration.

In many ways, this class was simultaneously easier and harder than the herbology class. The work was harder in principle, of course, but after all the time he and Hermione had managed to talk about their work over the holiday, they'd managed to keep their memories refreshed on the theory even if they couldn't do the practical without the Ministry coming down on them like a ton of bricks. Thanks to all their study of their books, Harry and Hermione had managed to maintain a decent grasp of the practical aspects of the course, and, with a bit of advice from the two of them, Ron was soon doing almost as well as they were. True, he only managed to produce a couple of buttons as opposed to Hermione and Harry- Harry was sure he and his sister could have replaced the buttons on a coat each with the amount they'd managed to whip up- but he still did fairly well.

Despite that, Harry was still grateful to get out of the classroom and get back to the great hall for lunch; after that kind of lesson, he _really _needed a chance to get his breath back before the next class…

Glancing at his timetable and noting that it was Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry wasn't sure whether he should be frustrated at having to deal with the walking fraud that called himself a professor or grateful that he was going to get an opportunity to try and find some evidence that the man was a fraud this early in the year. It wasn't that he doubted his belief that the guy was lying- after checking over his books, Harry was pretty confident that some of the dates for Lockhart's escapades overlapped; there was no way he could have tackled the Yeti _and _those banshees within a few days of each other, given how much time he'd allegedly spent 'researching' the origins of the local banshee-, but it was more that he wasn't sure how long it would take for the guy to be revealed as the fake he was. After all, if he'd managed to attract _that _much publicity, it was possible that the sheer amount of information in his books- coupled with his face winning over at least a significant portion of the female population- had limited the possibility of anyone seeing through his charade up until now; if he just stuck to talking about the information in the books, it could take ages for him to make a mistake.

Of course, there _was _also the possibility that he'd try something that he _couldn't _handle and have to try and cover up for his blunder, but Harry doubted even Lockhart would try to start something he knew he couldn't handle on his first day. _He _may have been convinced the man was lying about his accomplishments, but he freely admitted that his attitude was mainly because he hadn't liked the guy to begin with; if Lockhart was a fraud and had made it this far without being exposed, the guy would probably be careful not to give away the truth about himself by causing a situation he couldn't handle personally.

As he finally arrived at the great hall, Harry pushed those thoughts to the side and began to get some lunch together; he'd worry about Lockhart when he was in the guy's classroom and not before.

OK, so it still made him feel slightly sick to see that his sister had outlined Lockhart's lessons in little hearts- he'd thought that Hermione would be more _mature _than that- but he could put it aside for the moment…

Then, of course, while he was waiting for his next class to start, something happened that he'd been hoping to avoid; the mousey-haired boy he'd had to divert from sitting in the seat he'd been saving for Ginny last night showed up in front of him, a camera in his hands as he looked eagerly at Harry.

"All right, Harry?" he asked, his voice sounding breathless as he took a tentative step towards Harry and raised his camera hopefully. "I'm-I'm Colin Creevey. D'you think- would it be all right if- can I have a picture?"

Looking back at the young boy before him, Harry quickly raced over his options. Say yes and he'd probably never get rid of the kid, say no and he stood a likely chance of leaving the kid devastated; the only option he could think of that satisfied both of them was to act like he'd misunderstood and hope for the best.

"A picture?" he said, looking back at Colin with a slight smile as he stood up. "Sure, feel free; Ron, Hermione? Care to join me?"

For a moment, Ron looked as though he was going to ask what Harry was talking about, but when he saw the slightly pleading look in his friend's eyes, he stood up and positioned himself on one side of Harry as Hermione took up her own position on her brother's opposite side. Colin looked slightly disappointed at first, but he nevertheless took the picture and smiled gratefully at them.

"Thanks, Harry; I _really _wanted to prove I'd met you after everything I've heard," the young boy explained, apparently ignorant of the fact that Harry wasn't entirely interested in known any of this. "I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts- my dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either, so I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him- hey, you couldn't sign this, could you?"

"_Signed photos_?" a new voice said from off to the side, prompting Harry and Hermione to exchange frustrated glances; couldn't Malfoy _ever _learn not to go where he wasn't wanted (Although if he did that the prat would probably only end up attending Potions and staying in the Slytherin dorm rooms)? "You're giving out _signed photos_, Potter?"

"Tell me, Malfoy," Hermione asked, looking up at him in a mockingly sweet manner, "do you _enjoy _making an idiot out of yourself, or are you just too stupid to care about it?"

"You're just jealous," Colin piped up, despite the fact that his entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"_Jealous_?" Malfoy repeated, looking at Harry with a sarcastic smirk. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special-"

"Actually, it's the _circumstances _of the cutting that make it special," Harry retorted. "If you had _any _kind of brain, you'd at least try and come up with a decent insult; I didn't have anything like _that _happen to my head."

"Might help you out, though," Ron added, smiling teasingly at their mutual nemesis. "I mean, as Harry points out, you don't have _anything _worthwhile up there; maybe if someone _did _cut your head open they'd have a better idea how you survived this long believing all that junk?"

For a moment, Malfoy simply glared scathingly at Ron, but then he smirked slightly as another thought occurred to him.

"Care for a signed photo _yourself_, Weasley?" he asked, looking scathingly over at Ron. "It would probably-"

"What's all this, what's all this?" an almost _less _welcome voice said from off to the side. "Who's been giving out signed photos? Besides me, that is."

_Oh_, God… Harry groaned as Lockhart came up behind him, chuckling slightly as he slung an arm around the younger boy's shoulders.

"Shouldn't have asked!" Lockhart groaned; if Harry had been near a wall, he would have thumped his head against it in frustration. "We meet again, Harry! Come now, Mr Creevey; a double photo- can't say fairer than that- and we'll _both _sign it for you!"

Even after the bell rang for the next class- unfortunately _after _Colin had taken the picture-, Harry was unable to get away from Lockhart; the man just set off back to the castle with his arm still around Harry's shoulders, apparently unconcerned about the glare Harry was shooting in his direction.

"A word to the wise, Harry," he said as the two of them walked back into the castle and began to head towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "I was trying to cover for you out there. If both of us sign a picture for the lad, it doesn't look quite so bad; Otherwise, at this stage in your career, handing out autographed photos like that… it looks a bit big-headed you know?"

Harry couldn't believe he was hearing this; did the man think that _everyone _with a bit of fame wanted to do nothing more than draw attention to themselves? He may have _deliberately _cultivated his fame- the books he'd published were proof of that if nothing else-, but Harry hadn't done a _thing _to promote the idea that he wanted any more status than he already had.

"Were you even paying attention to what was _happening _out there?" he asked the man in frustration, unconcerned about his attitude; this man hadn't given Harry any reason to respect him, so he wasn't going to treat him with any. "I wasn't signing any photos of me. Colin took a photo of me and my friends and Draco Malfoy tried to make a big deal out of it. I don't _care _about my 'fame'; given that my parents _died _when I got this scar, I don't _really _like to think about it that much."

"Oh Harry," Lockhart said with a quiet laugh, patting Harry's shoulder in a disquietingly familiar manner; had Harry given this man _one reason _to think he liked him? "You are so naïve it's almost painful. We can only make do with what we are given. You have a scar gained in a most spectacular manner. I have devastatingly good looks, unmatched magical skills, and unquestioned literary talents. It's all about getting as much as you can with the gifts you have."

If he hadn't still been trying to figure out the limits to this man's abilities- he definitely hadn't done at least _some_ of the things he claimed he'd done, but beyond that Harry couldn't be sure of anything regarding Lockhart's magical skills- Harry would have retaliated with his suspicions about this guy's background; as it was, all he could do was try and reinforce the fact that their backgrounds were _not _the same and see if this prat got the message.

"Those 'gifts' you mentioned," he said, trying to sound casual, "you_ do_ know that your predecessor was possessed by Voldemort and tried to kill me, right?"

"Harry…" Lockhart said, shrugging dismissively, "into each life a little rain must fall. Do you know how many young witches have tried to break into my flat? Some of them weren't so _young_, either." He finished the last sentence with a shudder.

Harry could only stare in bemusement at the professor at that last comment.

Had the guy _really _just said…

_This man is not even speaking the same _language_ I am_, he groaned in frustration. Under _what _circumstances did getting 'attacked' by a bunch of witches interested in a quick 'liaison' compare to having the most powerful dark wizard for almost three centuries out for your blood?

"I understand if you were feeling a little out of sorts at the bookstore," Lockhart said in a grand manner, evidently ignorant of Harry's increasingly strong desire to punch him. "Part of being a celebrity is knowing how to react when life throws these little opportunities our way. I can help you there. And your pull added to mine, throw in all the cachet of Hogwarts nostalgia and a warm student-teacher bond, and we can make weekly headlines. I wouldn't be surprised if we were invited to functions every weekend until end of term. Wouldn't that be grand?"

Harry blinked bemusedly at that for a moment; did this guy even realise that he was here to _teach _Harry, not parade him around to give _himself _a leg-up?

"I'd have some trouble getting all my homework and revision done if I'm gone all weekend," he said at last; he would have liked to have told Lockhart where he could stick his offer, but, idiot or not, the man was still a teacher, and Harry didn't want to end up with detention any time soon.

"Oh tosh, Harry, I'm talking about something important here!" Lockhart said, hammering the final nail into the coffin of whatever 'respect' Harry might have had for him; this man clearly didn't give a rat's arse about teaching Defence. "I'm talking about our picture on the front page once a week, maybe even twice!"

"You know," Harry replied sarcastically as he tried to gather his wits, while making sure he _didn't _ask the guy if he'd only taken the job for an opportunity to talk to the Boy Who Lived and get further publicity, "it's… 'refreshing' to meet a professor who isn't all hung up on academics."

"The position was mine for the asking, since no one wants to risk that so-called curse," Lockhart replied with a rueful smile; Harry wondered if the man even registered that he wasbeing insulted. Besides, it's not like this is really an important class, is it? Most students will never need to use what they learn in here anyway. Those that do, well, they aren't going to be complaining, now are they?"

If Harry had been just a bit older, he would have punched the man before him in the face in an outrage. People could _die _because he hadn't prepared them properly, and here he was, acting as though it didn't _matter_…

"You don't need to give me an answer now, Harry," Lockhart said with a paternal smile. "Just think about it. We can do great things for each other, great things."

Harry really couldn't _believe _this guy; he _honestly _thought that Harry was interested in being _more _famous? If Lockhart was an example of what fame did to you, he was happy being a nobody, thank you very much.

Admittedly, that last thought wasn't entirely true- he'd _never _be a nobody no matter how much he might want to be- but at least he'd never _deliberately _encourage his status, _especially _not at the expense of others.

As he finally entered the classroom- sitting beside Ron due to a lack of empty spaces beside his sister-, Lockhart took up a position in front of the class, picked up a copy of _Travels with Trolls_, and held it up to show his picture to the entire class.

"Me," he said by way of explanation; Harry was becoming increasingly convinced that this man was missing an entire wall if not a few screws. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

Harry wasn't sure what annoyed him more; the fact that the man actually thought a joke like that was funny, or the fact that some people actually _laughed _at it.

"Well then," Lockhart continued, smiling casually around at the class, "I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in -"

For a moment, as the paper was placed before him, Harry entertained a brief hope that they might finally have something interesting in class- the books may featured a lot of text that essentially just pandered to Lockhart's ego, but there was still _some _interesting stuff in there- but those fragile hopes were dashed the moment he read the first question.

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour_?

The later questions did increasingly little to endear the man to Harry; they _all _seemed to be asking the class to recall the stupid _personal _details about Lockhart himself, and nothing about the creatures he'd defeated in the course of his books.

_I mean_, honestly; _what does it _matter _what this guy's secret ambition is; it has _nothing _to do with how he 'defeated' these things_! Harry groaned, wishing he could hit the prat in his vain face without risking a detention. If the man had just included _one _query asking about how he discovered the hag infestation in that village, or how he'd dealt with that werewolf in the Wagga Wagga area (Was that even a real place?), Harry might _just _have been tempted to take the quiz seriously, but as it was, as far as Harry was concerned, there was absolutely no reason to take this quiz seriously, so he wasn't going to bother. Glancing over the questions once more, Harry quickly scribbled down a variety of short answers- ranging from 'Who cares?' to 'So what?' and other such responses- and placed his quill back in the ink container, folding his arms as he stared in frustration up at the ceiling.

Half an hour afterwards- Harry was still finding it hard to believe that anybody was willing to put that much thought into a complete waste of time like this thing-, while Lockhart was commenting on the marks and Harry was desperately trying to tune him out, just when Harry thought he'd experienced the worst that this class was going to offer him, Lockhart announced something that reinforced Harry's desire to hit him somewhere.

"…but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions!" Lockhart beamed, as he looked up at the class. "Good girl!"

Lockhart continued talking, of course, but Harry wasn't listening after that; he was too busy trying to stop himself from feeling like he was about to throw up.

Hermione was _paying attention _to a comment about _hair-care potions_? The girl who'd never cared what people thought about her appearance, the girl whose enthusiasm for learning had sometimes worn down even their _teachers _back in primary school, the girl who'd always disliked the very _idea _of careers like modelling where looks counted more than intelligence… was actually _paying attention _to a comment about _hair-care potions_?

If it wasn't for the fact that he'd been with her for almost the entire summer- thus limiting the amount of opportunities something would have had to do anything to her-, and also the fact that he was pretty sure ghosts couldn't actually do that, Harry would have started thinking that she was _possessed_ or something equally disturbing.

Actually, no, he took that back; the _really _disturbing part of this whole thing was the fact that Hermione was acting like this by _herself_.

"Now," Lockhart said, breaking into Harry's train of thought, "be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind!"

Harry strongly doubted that the man was really capable of that, but he supposed the final proof of this idiot's claims was in his actions rather than anything else.

"You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room," Lockhart continued, "but know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here; all I ask is that you remain calm."

As Lockhart lifted a large covered cage out from behind his desk, Harry was momentarily intrigued by the potential contents of the cage. Could it be that Lockhart was actually going to show them something that he _was _capable of dealing with that they couldn't handle yet themselves?

"I must ask you not to scream," Lockhart continued, as he reached up with one hand to remove the covering from the cage. "It might provoke them."

For a moment, there was almost an edge of tension in the classroom at the prospect of what might be inside the cage…

Then the 'professor' removed the blanket over the cage, and Harry instantly reevaluated the man's skills back to his original guess; the man had _very _little confidence in their talents.

"Yes," Lockhart said, completely missing Harry's incredulous expression. "_Freshly caught Cornish pixies_."

Harry was saved from the indignity of snorting in amusement when Seamus did it first.

_I mean, come _on! he groaned internally. Pixies_? Anyone with a half-decent knowledge of magical creatures can deal with _that _kind of problem, and Hermione and I practically read the _book _on dealing with these kind of things over the summer_!

Still, he was certainly getting his wish; if Lockhart made as much of a mess of this as Harry hoped he would, then his plan to make Hermione see what an idiot she was being with this… _thing_ (He was _not _going to think of it as a crush) she had for Lockhart was going to get encouraged along almost without him needing to do anything.

"Yes?" Lockhart asked, looking critically at Seamus; evidently not even _he _was stupid enough to mistake Seamus's snort for a terrified scream.

"Well, they're not… not very _dangerous_, are they?" Seamus said, evidently trying not to laugh too loudly at the ridiculousness of the sight before him.

"Don't be so sure!" Lockhart said, waving his finger at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

Harry snorted inwardly.

_Yeah right; a bunch of screaming blue midgets who sound like budgies arguing_? He thought to himself, as Lockhart reached over to open the cage. _Let's just see how this guy handles a _real _situation_…

As soon as the cage had opened, the pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air, several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom with the kind of fine detail that would have impressed laser beams, grabbing ink bottles to spray the class with, shredding books and papers, tearing pictures from the walls, up-ending the waste basket, and grabbing bags and books to throw out of the smashed window. It barely took seconds for half the class was sheltering under desks- Neville was even swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling-, and, Harry was pleased to note, Lockhart _still _hadn't done _anything _about it.

Harry wasn't being deliberately vindictive, of course; if anyone looked like they were going to get _seriously _hurt, he'd step in and stop it from happening, but right now, with nobody getting hurt and no serious damage being done, he felt comfortable with letting the idiot humiliate himself.

"Come on now," Lockhart shouted, "round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!"

_If they're 'only pixies', how come _you _haven't dealt with them; you're meant to be _teaching _us this stuff, remember_? Harry thought, trying to stop himself snorting in laughter at Lockhart's incompetence as the man tried a rather ridiculous-sounding charm- it reminded Harry vaguely of a spell Ron had been allegedly given by Fred and George that he'd tried to demonstrate on their first train-ride to Hogwarts- that only succeeded in drawing attention to his wand and having it yanked out of his hands.

"Ah," Lockhart said, shaking his head slightly before he turned to dash back for his office, glancing back down at Harry, Ron and Hermione where they sat at the front of the class; the rest of the class had already evacuated through the door. "Well, I'll just leave you three to nip the rest of them back into their cage, all right?"

With that, he swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him, leaving the three students to stare incredulously at each other.

"Can you _believe _him?" Ron groaned, as he tried to grab at a nearby pixie only for it to bite him painfully on the ear.

"Oh for crying out- _Immobilus_!" Harry yelled, pulling out his wand and pointing them up at the ceiling, instantly immobilising the still-mobile pixies.

Ron blinked.

"Wait a minute… you could have done that _all the time_?" he said, turning to look incredulously at Harry. "But… but _why_?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said, as she looked back at Ron. "He trusted Lockhart to-"

"Make a complete ass of himself and prove that you're being a complete idiot?" Harry interjected, as he stood up and begin to grab the now-frozen pixies, subsequently stuffing them back in their cages.

"_What_?" Hermione said, looking incredulously at her brother. "Harry, you don't know that! Maybe he was just trying to give us some hands-on experience-"

"_Hermione_…" Harry groaned, as he looked critically at his sister, " the man clearly was having some _serious_ trouble helping up put down a bunch of _pixies_, and yet he claims to have handled everything from banshees to werewolves? Am I the _only _one noticing the inconsistencies there?"

"But look at all the things he's done-" Hermione began.

"Hermione, according to the Dursleys, my biological parents were unemployed wastes of space; just because someone _says _something doesn't mean it's true," Harry interrupted, staring resolutely at her. "I get that you've got this whole thing about respecting people in authority, but you need to realise; sometimes you _can't trust the adults_, didn't what happened to me with the Dursleys teach you that?"

As his sister simply continued to stare silently at him, Harry put the pixie he'd just grabbed back in the cage in front of him and walked over to look directly at her.

"Look, Hermione," he said, as she looked silently back at him, "I get that he _seems _to be good at his job and all that from what you've read, but I just don't think he's being totally honest. I mean, when I was on my way to class, he tried to talk me into making public appearances with him to help his own status; I actually _said _that it would probably cut into my homework time, and all he said was that he was, and I quote, 'talking about something important here! I'm talking about our picture on the front page once a week, maybe even twice!'"

With that said, he stepped back slightly to look more clearly at his sister, the better to ensure that she understood the point he was making.

"I _get _why you want to think he's everything he says he is, Hermione," he said, smiling slightly at her. "And if it was somebody else, I'd be happy for the evidence that you're actually a _girl _underneath all those books," (Hermione was unable to stop a slight giggle at that comment; a couple of Hermione's less-liked aunts had sometimes put some pressure on her to act more feminine, but nobody had ever taken them seriously), "but seriously, the man thinks getting on the front page is more important than marks? He doesn't exactly seem like the kind of person who'd risk his life to take on a werewolf, does he?"

For a moment, there was silence, and then Hermione sighed and lowered her head.

"I _was _acting a bit like Jade Larkins, wasn't I?" she said, in a small voice, recalling a very appearance-obsessed girl at their primary school (Harry was still not sure how that girl had managed to get away with wearing make-up at their age).

"Nah," he said reassuringly, drawing her towards him again for a brief hug. "You're still better than she is; at least you actually _get _that you were making an ass of yourself."

"Yeah… don't beat yourself up about it, Hermione," Ron added, walking over to pat Hermione reassuringly on the shoulder. "That smarmy git has fooled tons of people, Mum included; she's bought all his books and thinks Dumbledore was lucky to hire him. It's not like you're the only one who fell for his act up until now; don't blame yourself, OK?"

As she looked back at Ron, Hermione, for the first time in Harry's knowledge, didn't chide a friend for using inappropriate language; she just gave Ron a brief, grateful smile and left it at that.

It was only a small victory over the world's biggest git, but so long as his sister was back to normal, Harry was prepared to accept it for the moment.


	6. A Voice in the Wall

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: I apologise that not much happens in this chapter, but that's just the way it goes now that Harry and Ron don't have detention and Ron's wand isn't broken (As well as a couple of other details, but no point going into them right now; you'll see what's been changed as the chapter goes on)

AN 2: Sorry about the delay; I had a SERIOUS case of writer's block, to say nothing of having more creative interest directed into some of my other stories, but a few reviews I received recently prompted me to upload a few more chapters for this one

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

After the disaster of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, coupled with the pre-class 'conversation' (If you could call it that, given that Lockhart hadn't seemed to be listening to what Harry had to say and seemed to have only been paying attention to himself), Harry, Ron and Hermione spent a great deal of time trying to stay out of Lockhart's way to avoid giving him another chance at 'convincing' Harry to help the so-called 'teacher' out in his public appearances. Admittedly, Colin Creevey was another one who was rather hard to avoid, but at least Colin was generally satisfied just by saying "All right, Harry?" while passing him in a corridor, even if Harry only replied with "All right, Colin," regardless of how exasperated he sounded at the time. Unfortunately, Harry's attempts to avoid Colin resulted in him unintentionally limiting the time he could spend trying to apologise to Ginny for his earlier slip-up, but he was so far unable to find a decent opportunity to talk to her that wouldn't result in him running into the other first-year boy, and having Colin hanging around him would probably have just resulted in making an already uncomfortable situation even more difficult.

Those little problems aside, however, the first week back at Hogwarts went fairly well, particularly in the classes themselves. Apart from the ever-constant issue of potions- Harry strongly doubted he'd _ever _manage to achieve good marks in the actual classes, what with Snape's constantly praising the Slytherins and ignoring the Gryffindors no matter what his students did- in general, Harry swiftly got back into the swing of things, Hermione easily settling back into the routine of school life as well. Admittedly, Ron sometimes had trouble keeping up- he'd come close to nearly hitting Flitwick with a curse when he'd been particularly frustrated after a difficult Charms lesson- but he was still doing fairly well, and Harry was eagerly looking forward to a relaxing weekend as he fell asleep on Friday night.

Then, when he was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by the familiar form of Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, he was forced to acknowledge that a hope like that was never going to happen.

"What the…?" he muttered blearily.

"Quidditch practice!" Wood said. "Come _on_!"

Blinking as he sat up and pulled on his glasses, Harry felt like hitting something-preferably Wood- when he saw that the world outside the window was still in the early stages of sunrise.

"Oliver…" he groaned as he turned to look at the sixth year, "it's still barely even _morning_-"

"Exactly," Wood replied, grinning at Harry with an enthusiasm that almost seemed to be bordering on madness. "Nobody else has started training yet; we'll have the advantage over them. Get dressed and hurry up; we'll be on the field in fifteen minutes."

With that, he hurried out of the dorm room, leaving Harry to get out of bed and start shrugging on his quidditch robes. As he opened his suitcase to pull on his broom, he noticed his invisibility cloak, and, after a moment's thought, pulled it out, shrugging it on over himself as he headed for the main common room. If he was going to be doing early training, he wasn't in the mood to answer questions from a potentially over-enthusiastic Colin attempting to talk to him again. It wasn't that he disliked the younger boy- he was so enthusiastic that disliking him would have felt like kicking a puppy-, but there were times Harry wished the boy would get over the hero-worship and just see Harry as a _person _rather than the 'Boy Who Lived'; having people like Colin practically encouraging his image with all this attention just made it harder for him to try and be treated like a normal student.

Shrugging the cloak over him as he held his broom in one hand, he headed for the portrait hole, sighing slightly in relief as Colin raced past him without even noticing that he was there, clutching what looked like a photograph in his hand as he looked anxiously around himself. After hurrying along a few more corridors, Harry shrugged off the cloak, folded it up, and put it into an inner pocket of his robes; the bulge it created as a result wasn't large enough to be significantly noticeable unless you were actually looking for it, and the pocket was deep enough that the cloak should stay quite comfortably in there until he was ready for it.

As he arrived in the changing room at last, Harry was relieved to note that at least he wasn't the only person who felt at least a bit tired; Fred and George looked like they'd only just made it out of bed, Alicia looked like she was ready to fall asleep against the wall, and Angelina and Katie were each yawning side by side. Oliver, however, seemed generally unaware or unconcerned about the condition of his teammates, automatically pulling up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different coloured inks, the lines beginning to move around the page after Oliver tapped them with his wand. Harry tried to pay attention, of course- given that his Voldemort-induced coma last year was the main reason they'd lost the Quidditch Cup and come close to losing the house cup, he felt a certain desire to make up for last year's failure-, but it was still so early that his brain only processed around half of what Oliver was talking to him about, and from what he could see it looked like nobody else was really paying that much attention either.

"So," said Wood after a prolonged speech, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got one question, Oliver," George said, looking in frustration at the Keeper. "Why didn't you tell us this when we were awake?"

Oliver groaned.

"Now listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all. "We _should_ have won the Quidditch cup last year; we're easily the best team. But unfortunately- owing to circumstances beyond our control-"

He broke off for a moment to look in frustration at the team, prompting Harry to look down at the ground in an attempt to avoid feeling like he was specifically being blamed for that failure- it was hardly his fault that Quirrell had turned out to be possessed by a homicidal maniac-, before Wood started speaking again, apparently calmed down.

"Anyway," he said, looking resolutely at the entire team once again, "that's why we need to train harder than before; let's get going!"

With that, he seized his broom and marched out of the changing room, the rest of the team following, trying desperately to look more alert than they felt. As he walked out onto the field, Harry was relieved to see that it at least looked brighter outside than it had done earlier- they must have been inside the changing rooms for longer than he thought-, although it was still shrouded in a fine layer of mist. Glancing over at the field, Harry smiled slightly as he saw Hermione and Ron in the stands, munching on the remains of their breakfast as they looked at him.

"Training strategies proving as difficult as ever?" Hermione asked, smiling sympathetically at him from her vantage point.

"Don't even get me _started_," Harry called back, taking another quick glance around as he advanced to the centre of the pitch in case anybody else was watching them; he _really _didn't want to have to deal with over-eager 'fans' right now. "I get that we want to win this season, but there has to be a rule against wanting it _that _much…"

Shrugging such thoughts aside as he got onto his broom and flew up into the sky, Harry momentarily allowed his mind to relax as he flew through the air once again, finally back in the air without needing to worry about such details as being seen by nearby muggles or other such inconveniences. He just fly for the few moments between take-off and the moment the balls were released… he could just concentrate on the wind sweeping through his hair… he could just-

"What the _hell_?!" Oliver's voice suddenly yelled, forcing Harry out of his brief 'doze' and making him glance down to the ground. To his surprise, he saw the Slytherin team walking out onto the pitch, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't _believe _this!" Oliver yelled in outrage. "I _booked _the pitch for today! We'll see about _this_!"

As he shot to the ground, Harry and the others quickly followed him, all seven of them landing in front of their Slytherin counterparts as Oliver glared resolutely at the larger Slytherin captain Marcus Flint.

"Flint!" Oliver yelled at the captain in frustration. "This is _our _practice time! I _booked _the field! You can leave now!"

"Can't do that, Wood," Flint replied, smirking slightly as he looked at his Gryffindor rival while reaching into his pocket to pull out a small piece of paper. "I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. '_I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker._' "

"You've got a new Seeker?" Oliver said, looking in surprise at the Slytherins. "Where?"

As Malfoy stepped forward, clad in the green robes of the Slytherin quidditch team, Harry decided to take back control of the situation.

"God, are you _that _desperate for attention, Mal-_flop_?" he groaned, walking forward to look critically at the Slytherin. "I mean, I knew you were jealous of me, but I never thought you'd really go in for the whole 'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery' thing to try and get my attention, you prat."

Malfoy blinked in confusion.

"Excuse me?" he said, looking at Harry as though he'd grown an extra head. "I don't know what you think you're talking about, Potter, but-"

"He's saying you're trying to get his attention by copying him in the hope that he'll start hanging out with you and thus you'll get a rep as being Harry Potter's mate rather than being an arrogant twit," Fred clarified, looking over at Malfoy with a smirk. "Is that simple enough for your tiny brain, or do I need to dumb it down some more for you?"

"How'd you even _get _on the team?" Harry asked, another thought occurring to him. "It's too early for try-outs to have been held already, and you wouldn't have been allowed to even be a reserve last year- they were bending the rules just letting _me _on the team-, so… oh," he said, as his eyes fell on the sleek black brooms the team clutched in their hands.

Specifically, brooms that he recognised from the quidditch store in Diagon Alley as being the new Nimbus Two Thousand and One models.

"Ok, you like the brooms?" Flint said carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "The very latest model; only came out last month I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps-"

Harry didn't even allow him to finish.

He burst out laughing.

"Let me get this straight; you let this useless lump _buy _his way onto the team?" he said, dropping his broom and clutching his chest as he laughed. "Do you _want _to lose the tournament or something?"

"What?" Flint said, looking in confusion at Harry before looking back at Oliver. "Is your entire team mental, Wood?"

"No, but _you_ are if you let Malfoy onto the team just because he gave you a speed upgrade," Harry said, managing to calm himself down slightly as he saw Ron and Hermione hurrying towards him out of the corner of his eye. "Didn't you know that Draco's _useless _on a broom? According to him he's been flying for years, but I outflew him my _first time _on a broomstick! I mean, he was _told _that he'd been riding the thing the wrong way for years during our lesson; is a bunch of free brooms really worth forfeiting the next six cups because you've got this prat on the team?"

Malfoy went as red as it was possible for someone with his complexion to go.

"That's a filthy lie!" he spat, stepping forward as though moving to attack Harry, only to suddenly find two wands pointing in his faces from over Harry's shoulders.

"Do you want to back that up in court?" Hermione asked in a mockingly polite tone, as she and Ron stood on either side of her brother while she glared at Malfoy. "Because Ron and I were there when it happened- along with pretty much every other Gryffindor in our year- and we can definitely _swear _that Harry was better than you when the two of you flew against each other."

Malfoy's smug look flickered.

"Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," he said bluntly.

Harry didn't even stop to think; one minute he was standing between Ron and Hermione, just behind Oliver, his broom in his left hand, and the next he was a few feet forward from where he'd started, and Malfoy was lying on the ground with a bruised cheek and Harry's hand was throbbing slightly.

Looking down at the other boy, Harry's eyes narrowed.

"_Never_," he stated bluntly. "_Call. Her. That. Word. AGAIN_."

Even as Malfoy glared back at Harry, evidently outraged at what had just happened, Harry knew that Malfoy wouldn't dare to report anything to anybody; it wouldn't do his 'anything muggle is inferior' beliefs any good for it to become even more public knowledge that he'd been taken down by a _punch _rather than a spell.

"Uh… right then," Oliver said, blinking slightly at the unexpectedly violent move from his seeker before he looked back at the rest of the team, "let's just… head down to the lake and stay out of things up here."

As Harry and the rest of the team quickly headed away from the pitch, Harry allowed himself a brief moment to turn back and make a rude gesture in Malfoy's direction before he turned back to look at where he was going. As far as he was concerned, the best victories against Malfoy were the psychological ones; if he made it clear that he didn't see it as being worth his time even to look at Malfoy, the git might get the message and leave him alone.

Of course, Malfoy was probably so desperate for acknowledgement- to say nothing of wanting to be recognised as a credible threat- that he would just take Harry ignoring him as a challenge to push him harder, but Harry had learned enough from his time with the Grangers to know that he'd get nowhere with bullies if he gave them what they wanted.

Getting even with them was all well and good, of course, just so long as they didn't _know _that you'd gotten back at them…

Harry would definitely have to talk with the twins about getting in some payback on that smug blood-fixated git at some point; maybe something in the field of making him look like the Swamp Thing's relative would be appropriate punishment for the prick…

* * *

After the quidditch practice was over, however- they had transfigured some large tree branches to act as makeshift goalposts for practice purposes, although it still wasn't the same as using an actual quidditch pitch-, Harry had put aside any thought of revenge on Malfoy for the moment, and had decided to simply focus on sticking to his original plan for the weekend without worrying about quidditch.

The Slytherin team's new brooms were an issue, of course, but the team had taken Harry's words at the time to heart and decided to ignore the issue; the Slytherins may now possess the speed advantage, but from what they'd seen while training, their essential tactics still seemed to be a case of powering on through the game without even trying to think strategically. So long as they took care to use Slytherin's speed against them in a game- Fred and George's favoured suggestion was to trick them into pushing themselves so hard that they overshot their targets; the Slytherins' typically bulkier players might make it hard for them to turn when flying-, and Harry was correct about his assessment of Malfoy's quidditch skills, they should be fine.

Right now, however, Harry, Hermione and Ron had only one priority; visit Hagrid and see how things had gone for him since last term. Arriving at their friend's hut after leaving his quidditch robes and broom back in his room, Harry knocked on the door, only be startled when Hagrid opened the door and found a large crossbow in his face as it opened.

"Uh… Hagrid?" Hermione asked, looking uncertainly between the crossbow and their friend at the other end of the weapon. "Is… everything all right?"

"Eh?" Hagrid asked, looking between the three faces before him before he shook his head sheepishly. "Nothin'… just had a bit of a frustratin' visitor earlier…"

"Lockhart, right?" Ron asked, smiling sympathetically at their large friend. "Trust me; we know how you feel."

"What did he want to see you about, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, as the three of them walked into the hut and sat down around the table.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," Hagrid growled, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know _that _after all these years… an' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

"I don't blame you; I think he's at least a slight liar myself," Harry said sympathetically as he nodded at his friend. "I mean, he had trouble dealing with a bunch of pixies in our first class, and yet he claims to have dealt with everything from werewolves to banshees? There's something not _quite _right there, isn't there?"

Hagrid groaned.

"Yeah, I know what yer mean; too bad he was the on'y man available for the job," the gamekeeper said, as he poured them all cups of tea as he looked in frustration at the rest of them. ""An' I mean the _on'y_ one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed; no one's lasted long fer a while now."

"Nobody?" Hermione repeated, looking in surprise at Hagrid. "But you told us that Quirrell had been at Hogwarts for a while…"

"Originally taught Muggle Studies before he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience," Hagrid clarified. "Last year was his first an' only year as Defence teacher; one of the latest in a long line of 'em not to keep the job. If they ain't sacked or quit, they somehow or other get hurt durin' class an' have ter drop out fer so long that invitin' them back don't work…"

He shook his head slightly in frustration at the memories. "Pretty much the only reason Dumbledore gave that… _twit_ the job is that nobody else wants it at the moment."

As Hagrid looked over at Harry, he smiled slightly at the young wizard. "O' course, I think his main problem with bein' here is that you're here too; told 'im when he visited that you were more famous than 'im wi'out e'en trying, an' I think that prompted him ter leave."

"Well, at least _something _good came out of this scar," Harry said, smiling back at his friend with a brief nod. "If it puts that git in his place, I think I can cope with being at least a _little _famous…"

* * *

A few hours later, as Harry walked back to Hogwarts, he allowed himself a slight smile at how well the day had gone despite its disastrous beginning. True, the fact that Malfoy had made it onto the Slytherin Quidditch team wasn't the best news he'd ever had, but at the same time he'd managed to make it clear to the other team members that Malfoy's abilities on the court were significantly exaggerated.

Plus, of course, his time in Hagrid's hut had certainly been an enjoyable experience; after spending so long with his classmates- particularly the female ones; Hermione's 'revelation' after the first class apparently hadn't really sunk in to the rest of the group- praising the very ground the man walked on, it was refreshing to see that he wasn't the only person who thought that the guy was overrated.

Right now, though, all he was concerned about was getting back to the dorms and getting to sleep; after waking up as early as he had been today, he'd like to just have a bit of time to rest in case Oliver set up another early practise session tomorrow. Ron and Hermione had decided to stay with Hagrid for a bit longer, but they'd accepted Harry's decision to get to bed early.

_Oh yeah… life is good_… Harry reflected as he walked back to the room that was already becoming his second home (He hardly counted the Dursleys' house as a home and he could barely remember where he'd lived with his parents). _At least there's no sign of mystical objects being hidden in the school _this _year…_

It was only when Harry was half-way to Gryffindor tower that he heard something that made him realise this new year was going to have its own challenges, in the form of a low, hissing voice that seemed to come from all around him as he stood in a corridor.

"Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…"

Harry blinked.

_What the _Hell…? he thought, looking around himself for some sign of whoever had spoken. _What was _that _all about_?

He couldn't see anyone immediately around him, Invisibility Cloaks were too rare for him to be able to consider that a possible explanation, and while he'd heard about charms that were meant to accomplish pretty much the same thing as the cloak he was fairly certain that they were nowhere near effective enough to make the wearer _this _invisible…

Besides, even if the speaker _was _invisible by some means or another, why would they have given the game away by saying something that… creepy… in his presence? Even if they'd given him a specific location to go to, he was hardly likely to want to go off to find somebody who'd been threatening to tear him apart…

_Great_, Harry groaned, reaching up to clasp his forehead in one hand. _I've got _another _mystery about Hogwarts to crack and the school year's barely even started yet…_

Why was it that this school could apparently make it through an entire war without being attacked even once- based on the stories he'd heard about how Voldemort had only ever really feared Dumbledore-, and yet it was now dealing with its _second _strange occurrence in as many years just after he'd arrived there?


	7. The Legend of the Chamber

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

Given his own lack of information on the origins and purpose of the voice, however, Harry swiftly found himself experiencing great difficulty in working out exactly what it was that he'd heard in the first place. He _knew _that he'd heard it, of course- he was fairly certain that you didn't start hearing voices that clearly that quickly, no matter what kind of 'residual trauma' he might been dealing with as a result of his abuse at the hands of the Dursleys before he was sent to the orphanage-, but he wouldn't exactly like to bet good money on everyone else believing him when he tried to tell them that he'd heard a voice threatening to murder people, especially when he still hadn't actually seen any evidence that it had done so.

Of course, his research wasn't exactly helped by his need to keep up with both his school and quidditch work, both of which occupied a great deal of his time even without him trying to do his own independent studying. Ron was starting to wonder if Hermione had spent so much time with Harry over the summer that her old, nigh-on-over-the-top obsession with consulting the library had rubbed off on Harry, but Harry had assured Ron that he was just looking up information on something he'd heard about rather than turning into a total bookaholic.

However, as October rolled around with no further clues or information that he could use to help him figure out what he was actually dealing with, Harry's interest in the topic began to fade, particularly since he'd yet to discover anything useful one way or the other. The foul weather that he had to put up with during training sessions grew increasingly worse as time went on, with matters being far from helped by the news that the Slytherin team resembled nothing more than vivid green blurs as they flew around on their brooms while practising.

In general, though, Harry felt as though he was actually making rather good progress despite the poor weather he faced at present. The rain was definitely testing his endurance, if nothing else- he was starting to doubt that there was _anything _the opposing team could 'throw' at him (Both literally and metaphorically) that he couldn't handle after dealing with this weather-, but the question of what he was going to do about finding out about that voice was another matter completely; his private research had failed to provide him with any explanations save for the obvious option that he was going crazy, and he wasn't that inclined to consider _that _an option at this point.

_Not that I ever _would _like to consider that an option_… Harry reflected, hurrying along the corridor that would take him to the Gryffindor common room; he had enough mundane issues to deal with without factoring in his potential insanity, even without his fears of Voldemort to worry about.

Right now, he was just grateful that he'd at least mastered the cleaning charms enough to get the worst of the mud off after his practise; he might still be dripping wet, but at least he wasn't trailing mud along behind him as he ran…

Then he turned a corridor and found himself looking at the form of Nearly Headless Nick staring forlornly out of a window, muttering under his breath in evident frustration at something.

"Hey, Nick," Harry said, pausing his run to talk with the ghost; after everything he'd been worrying himself about lately, the chance to talk to someone else with a problem might make a welcome distraction from his own issues.

"Mmm?" Nick said, turning to look at him in slight surprise before he relaxed as he took in who was addressing him. "Oh, hello, hello… things all right?"

"I was actually wondering that about you," Harry replied, slightly uncertainly; he'd never been entirely certain how to address the ghosts, even if Nick had always seemed like decent enough company when he'd encountered him briefly in the corridors beyond the fact that he was dead.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance… It's not as though I really wanted to join… Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements' …"

Harry didn't need to know people to know that Nick was putting on his current attitude; there was definitely a look of great bitterness on his face that his casual tone did little to conceal.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling a letter out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Can't really see why it wouldn't," Harry said; he had to admit, after enduring something like that you'd think anybody still around here as a ghost would be entitled to a few benefits no matter _what _state they were in.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean and my head had come off properly; it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However -" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously: "'_We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore_'."

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir 'Properly Decapitated'-Podmore-"

Cutting himself off, Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths- most likely for psychological purposes; Harry hadn't looked into the issue of ghosts that much in his time at Hogwarts, but they definitely didn't need to breath- before he resumed the conversation.

"So," he asked, his tone now far calmer, "what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No, it's nothing major; just a… well, just something I heard that's been puzzling me; it's nothing important," Harry said, shrugging dismissively; as pleasant company as Nick was, he wasn't exactly certain about telling Nick something that he hadn't even told Hermione yet. "Sorry about the Headless Hunt thing; see you later."

With that he continued to walk off towards the common room, vaguely registering Nick floating off through a nearby wall and a brief glimpse of movement lower down- most likely Mrs Norris, Filch's cat; there weren't many people who'd let their animals roam around like that- before he rounded another corner and the cat vanished from view.

_Yet another detention-free night ahead_, Harry mused, allowing himself a satisfied smile at the thought; after the cleaning charms he'd used to get rid of the mud he'd accumulated earlier, Filch didn't have any reason to try and catch him to give him detention even if Mrs Norris _had _seen him, which meant that he was free to get back to the common room and relax for a bit.

* * *

The next night was particularly pleasant at first, given that it was time once again for the school's annual Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, the vast pumpkins Hagrid had been growing since term began had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in and were positioned all around the hall- a few of them were even animated, although a couple of Slytherin first-years were left with a noticeable shock when one of them roared just behind them-, and the rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment turned out to be accurate; the skeletons- evidently artificial rather than genuine; using actual skeletons was probably darker magic than anyone would use for a simple party- spent most of the feast simply doing the occasional little jig in the middle of the tables while the rest of the students were waiting for their food to be served, but as the students began to finish their food they moved up to the front of the room to begin various unusual jigs to songs Harry hadn't heard before.

It would have been a pleasantly relaxing evening, if Harry hadn't glanced down to the end of the table and noticed the absence of two particular people.

"Ron?" he whispered, glancing over at where his friend was sitting just beside him, Hermione on the opposite side of the table.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, his gaze fixed on the dancing skeletons.

"Did Ginny and Percy happen to mention that they were going somewhere tonight?" Harry asked, indicating the now-empty seats that had originally held Ron's oldest remaining Hogwarts-attending brother and only sister, now conspicuously empty. It wasn't that they were the only people absent from the feast, of course- Harry could see a couple of empty seats at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, and quite a few Slytherins seemed to have left before the party even really started (Harry wondered if they were disappointed about the fake skeletons)-, but they were the only people who had left the table _recently_ to Harry's knowledge, which made him more suspicious; after all, why would they have left the feast early after he'd clearly heard Ginny express her excitement about attending it (Before she'd realised that he was in the room, of course; she still seemed to get a bit shy once she saw he was present)…

"Come on," he whispered, jerking his head briefly towards the door as he looked at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione didn't need to ask for clarification; with everyone else's attention focused on the skeletons, nobody was going to notice their specific absence at this time, and Ginny's absence after she'd been so keen to attend this feast in the first place was definitely something that merited closer investigation, no matter how minor it might be. Slipping silently out of their chairs and creeping down the tables towards the door- with everyone's attentions focused on the skeletons none of the students would be likely to notice them, and the teachers' views were blocked by the skeletons in front of their table-, the trio slipped out into the halls and began to head towards the common room as rapidly-yet-quietly as possible.

They were possibly around half-way between the hall and the common room when Harry heard it.

"… _rip… tear… kill…_"

The sound of that cold, murderous voice was enough to put any thoughts of finding the missing Weasleys out of Harry's mind, instantly halting him in his tracks as he leaned against the wall and strained his ears and eyes for some sign of what might have made that noise in the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you -?" Hermione began.

"It's that voice again," Harry said briefly, thoughts of Ginny and Percy's strange absence pushed aside in favour of this new mystery. "Just… be quiet for a minute…"

"…_soo hungry… for so long…_" the voice continued, Hermione and Ron's bemused glances making it clear that they couldn't hear what he heard even as Harry strained his ears to pick up anything more distinctive about it. "_…kill… time to kill…_"

As the voice grew fainter, Harry momentarily wondered why it appeared to be moving upwards- was it another ghost or phantom of some sort?-, but he didn't have time to wait; if its last words were any indication, things were about to get unpleasant.

"This way!" he shouted, and he began to run up the stairs towards the source of the voice, all the time growing ever more concerned at the sound of the voice talking about the scent of blood even as Ron and Hermione continued to stare bemusedly at him (Thankfully, however, their bemusement evidently wasn't enough to make them doubt him). As they reached the second floor, he turned and ran down another corridor, only coming to a halt when he saw something at the end of the latest passage.

"Oh my God…" he whispered, staring in shock at the sight before him. On the wall in front of them, foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

_**The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.**_

_**Enemies of the Heir, BEWARE.**_

"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped in a large puddle of water on the floor, only for Ron and Hermione to grab him and halt his descent as they approached the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash; Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket, her entire body stiff as a board and her eyes wide and staring at something below her.

"Oh my God…" Hermione whispered. "Is… is she…?"

"Dead?" Harry said, leaning in for a closer examination of the cat before he stepped back, shaking his head. "No, it looks more like what I've read of Petrification; there's still a _bit_ of a gleam of life in her eyes, even if she doesn't seem to be breathing that much…"

"We should go," Ron said, looking anxiously over at Harry. "We _really _don't want to be found here…"

"Agreed," Harry said, glancing at his watch before they turned to hurry back along the corridor towards the common room; Ginny and Percy's absences would have to wait until later, but right now they had to get back to Gryffindor Tower if they wanted to avoid being asked awkward questions about this latest attack when everyone else left the feast (For a moment Harry wondered if the two events were connected, but pushed it aside; Ginny was apparently a great cat-lover, which ruled out the idea of her doing something like this even if she wasn't too young to know that kind of magic, and Percy was too by-the-book to even think about _insulting _a member of the teaching staff, never mind something like this).

"Strange, though," Hermione said, after they'd been walking for a few moments with no sound of any movement from the Great Hall. "I mean, you hearing a voice that we can't… and then that whole thing with Mrs Norris…"

"You believe I heard it though, right?" Harry said.

"_That's _the only bit I don't question; what I'm puzzled about is why," Hermione said, shaking her head slightly as they walked. "And as for that message… I mean; 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once ... might've been Bill…"

"Oh, so there _is _something in it?" Harry asked, slapping his hands together with a slightly teasing smile as he looked over at Hermione. "Too bad _you _left your copy of _Hogwarts: A History _behind; you could use it now, couldn't you…?"

"You _what_?" Ron said, looking at Hermione incredulously. "But you _never_- oh, right; Lock-prat's books took up too much space, huh?"

"I thought we agreed that topic was off-limits until we left school…?" Hermione said in a low, threatening voice; she was still somewhat embarrassed at her initial 'infatuation' with the useless professor.

"You agreed; _we_ made no such promises," Harry replied, grateful for a more light-hearted topic. "Besides, it _is _kind of amusing…"

"Yes, yes, all right, I was an idiot; can we focus on more _important _things right now?" Hermione said, as she glared over at Harry. "Look, right now you're the only one of us with access to that book; you can check over it tonight and tell the rest of us what it's all about at breakfast, OK?"

"I think the morning might be better; this doesn't seem like the kind of thing we should encourage discussion about," Harry said, looking urgently between the two of them as he glanced again at his watch to check the time. "Look, let's get back to the dorms, say we left early because we were feeling tired if anyone asks what we're doing there already, and then meet up in the common-room at… say, five-thirty to talk about it?"

"Two _hours _before breakfast?" Ron said incredulously. "Harry-"

"We don't know what I'm going to find out, Ron; best to be prepared for the worst," Harry said by way of explanation, as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I'm not asking _you _to stay up and read it all with me; I'm just saying that we need to be prepared for the possibility that what I find might take a while to discuss."

"Harry's right," Hermione said, nodding at Ron. "Whatever did that to Mrs Norris was definitely powerful- there aren't many spells capable of that kind of Petrification, and I can't think of many creatures capable of it either-; the sooner we get some idea of what it is-"

"All _right_…" Ron said, briefly muttering the password to the portrait before they walked into the common room, heading for the stairs to the boy's dormitories with a sullenness that made it clear he was just going to hit his bed as soon as possible.

* * *

The following morning, Harry and Ron sneaked down to the common room at half-five to find Hermione already there, dressed- like them- in a pair of trousers and her pajama top; evidently all three of them had concluded that it would be easier to sneak back up once this conversation was over and continue the impression that they'd simply left the feast early.

"Find anything?" Hermione asked, as Harry and Ron sat down beside her, all three of them keeping their voices low; Harry had even brought his invisibility cloak in case it turned out to be needed if someone came down early.

"Not much- apparently the Chamber's only an unproven legend-, but what there is definitely doesn't sound encouraging…" Harry said, shaking his head slightly at the memory of the passages he'd read about the Chamber.

"What was it?" Ron asked.

"Well," Harry said, sitting back on the sofa slightly to better address his friends, "according to the book, when the Hogwarts Founders- Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin- originally created Hogwarts, they worked together in relative peace for the first few years bringing young wizards and witches here to be taught, but eventually things got a bit… complicated… when they began to bring in muggle-borns."

"In what way?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, it was Salazar Slytherin's fault; no surprise _there _then, really," Harry said, shrugging slightly in frustration at the memory before he continued. "Slytherin apparently thought that they should be more selective about teaching magic to the general population, and focus only on wizarding families rather than muggle ones that might produce an occasional magic user; he thought that prolonged contact with muggles increased the risk of them finding out about the wizarding world or something like that…"

"Git," Hermione said briefly.

"Quite," Harry agreed, smiling at her before he continued. "Anyway, he eventually left the school after an argument about it with Gryffindor, but that wasn't the end of the matter. According to rumour, Slytherin's meant to have created a secret chamber of some sort in the school that's inaccessible to anyone but his own chosen heir. From what I read, the chamber's meant to be the home of some kind of monster that the heir alone can control, the idea being that the heir will unleash this monster against those who- according to Slytherin- were unworthy to study magic."

"In other words, muggle-borns?" Ron asked.

"Precisely," Harry confirmed with a solemn nod. "Nobody's ever _found _the damn thing, of course, but rumours aren't exactly something that go away easily; people have been searching for it now and again, but they've never actually _found_ anything. Add in the fact that message we saw mentioned the 'Heir'…"

"It doesn't take a genius to work out what's going on, really," Hermione said with a sigh as she leant back in the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. "Damnit… and I thought this was going to be an _easy _year for us…"

"With Voldemort showing up in person for our _first _one after hiding out in a near-death state for the previous ten for the dual purpose of regaining his body _and _killing me?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Why would things get _easier _after that?"

"Well, look on the bright side," Ron said, clearly trying to ignore the reference to Voldemort's name as he looked between his friends. "At least we've got an obvious candidate for the Heir; how many people do we know who think all muggle-borns are scum and is smart enough to know something about controlling whatever's down there?"

"Hold on… Malfoy?" Harry said, looking sceptically at Ron. "I don't know… he's always seemed more bark than bite…"

"All the more reason to think it's him; if that tale's right, he can send the monster out to do the dirty work _for _him while he hides away himself!" Ron said by way of explanation.

"You have to admit, it _does _make sense…" Harry said, nodding thoughtfully. "After all, his entire family have been in Slytherin; he can't shut up about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendents; handing the key down from father to son until the right moment came to let the monster out once again…"

He sighed in frustration. "The only problem is _proving _it; since we're dealing with an unknown but definitely dangerous creature, catching him in the act wouldn't exactly be practical even if we knew where the bloody Chamber _was_, and it's not like he's going to _admit _it to us when there's a chance he'd get caught…"

"Unless he doesn't know it _is _us," Hermione added, smiling over at her brother. "You remember that potion Snape mentioned a few weeks back?"

"You mean… Polyjuice potion?" Harry asked uncertainly; he might pay attention in class, but he tended to rely on later consultation of his notes for revision purposes rather than try to remember everything he was told all at once. "That stuff that turns you into somebody else?"

"Well, it fits our purposes, you have to admit; all we need is the recipe, and we're sorted," Hermione said, only for her expression to falter. "Of course, it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library, and there's no way any teacher would believe we were just interested in the theory unless they were _really _stupid…"

"And fortunately," Harry said, smiling over at his friend and his sister, "we happen to _have _a truly thick teacher in the school at this time…"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation.

"_Lockhart_…" she said with a broad, almost sadistic smile.

"Bingo," Harry said, nodding in confirmation before he glanced at his watch and stood up. "We'd better get back to bed before anyone else gets up; Hermione, you see what you can come up with for an excuse to provide for Lockhart."

"Right," Hermione said, nodding in understanding before she hurried off back to her dorm.

"Come, Watson," Harry said, smiling over at Ron as Hermione vanished up the stairs, "the game's afoot!"

"Uh… you OK, Harry?" Ron asked, looking uncertainly at his friend. "I'm _Ron_, not 'Watson'?"

Harry sighed.

_Bloody wizards_… he groaned, as he walked up the stairs in silent frustration at Ron's cultural ignorance. _No respect for the classics_…


	8. The Rogue Bludger

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As Harry had anticipated, getting permission from Lockhart to access the Restricted Section had been almost ridiculously easy; Hermione had made up some story about wanting to consult the book in order to better understand something that Lockhart had written about and the man had signed the paper without even bothering to look at the title of the book she was interested in.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that Lockhart tended to leave him feeling humiliated whenever he called upon him to help act out some scene or another from his novels, Harry might have actually liked the guy for the potential he offered to gain access to less accessible materials; as it was, Lockhart's only good point was that he was such a moron he never paid attention to anything that wasn't about him.

A few minutes after they'd acquired the book, Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing outside an out-of-order bathroom, Ron staring apprehensively at the door.

"Are you _sure _about this?" he asked, looking in concern at the others. "I mean, just because it's not working-"

"Oh, don't worry about that; it's haunted," Hermione said, smiling reassuringly at Ron as she walked into the bathroom, a slight apprehension in her eyes the only sign that she was concerned about what they were doing.

"A haunted toilet?" Harry said, looking over at his sister in surprise even as he briefly examined their surroundings; the bathroom was the most depressing room of its kind Harry had ever been in, with chipped sinks under a long cracked mirror, flaking paint on the doors- some of which seemed to be practically falling off their hinges- and a floor that gave the impression that it hadn't been dry for some time. "What ghost haunts a _toilet_?"

A transparent head with short lanky hair and wearing a pair of thick glasses that almost made the glasses Harry had worn while living with the Dursleys look stylish poked up over the nearest door, looking scathingly at them for a moment before she ducked back down into the toilet after receiving no response, followed by a new round of sobbing.

"She does that a lot," Hermione said, shrugging apologetically at Ron and her brother as she glanced back at them, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting Myrtle's attention. "It's mostly the sobbing that gets on people's nerves; as ghosts go she's really not as bad as she could be..."

"Right," Harry said, nodding in understanding after shooting a brief uncomfortable glance at the door that Myrtle was currently hiding behind before he turned his attention back to his sister. "Well, let's get on with it; what does this book actually say about that potion?"

As Hermione carefully opened _Moste Potente Potions_ and began to study the pages, Harry could only hope that the illustrations depicted exaggerated the effects of some of the potions; what possible benefit could be gained from a man being apparently turned inside out Harry didn't know, and the expressions of intense pain on some of their faces...

"Here it is," Hermione said, smiling at Harry as she indicated _The Polyjuice Potion _written at the top of the page; Harry wasn't sure whether to be more concerned about the pained expressions on the faces of the accompanying illustrations or the sheer complexity of the potion displayed in the following pages.

"Not exactly an easy concoction, is it?" he muttered, glancing over at Hermione. "Some of this stuff doesn't look like it's going to be easy to come by; where are you meant to find the powered horn of a bicorn?"

"Forget that, what about the bit about us needing a part of whoever we want to turn into?" Ron said, indicating the relevant part of the text with an urgent point of his finger. "I'll tell you right now, I'm drinking _nothing _with Crabbe's toenails in it!"

"On the bright side, those aren't going to be needed until the last minute; the _problem _lies in figuring out how we're going to get the extra ingredients," Harry said, holding up a hand to cut off Ron's objections and Hermione's incredulous glare. "I'm not saying we shouldn't do it, I'm just saying we need to figure out a way of gaining access to Snape's stores which won't give away what we're up to and get us in trouble..."

"However we get it, we'd better think of something fast," Hermione added as she studied the ingredients list before her. "Given that the lacewings alone need to be stewed for twenty-one days, this is probably going to take about a month; honestly, it might be more straightforward to buy us time by knocking Malfoy off his broom tomorrow..."

"I'll keep that possibility in mind," Harry said, smiling briefly at her as the three of them got back to their feet, even as he knew that she wasn't being serious about her last statement; no matter how much Hermione might hate Malfoy, nobody wanted him actually _dead_.

Of course, if Harry got the chance to go past Malfoy a bit too quickly while they were competing against each other because Malfoy was too incompetent on a broomstick to realise that the speed of the broom didn't matter if the player's _reflexes _weren't up to scratch to respond to what was going on around him...

Well, nobody could say the other boy couldn't use a few pointers about using a broom properly; so far all reports of the Slytherin team's Quidditch training had shown that they were relying heavily on the speed of their new brooms rather than developing any kind of skilled tactics for dealing with a similarly speedy team.

* * *

The next morning, however, Harry's confidence had been almost completely replaced with apprehension over the current game; all his thoughts about the Slyhterins' reliance on speed over tactics didn't change the fact that they could outpace anything the Gryffindors could do on their brooms no matter how much better they'd trained. The rest of the team was already feeling apprehensive over breakfast, and even Wood's traditional pre-match pep talk did little to fully revive their spirits beyond reinforcing Harry's old thoughts on speed versus tactical superiority while leaving Harry slightly more nervous at the additional pressure the current situation put him under; with the current speed advantage making it hard to catch up with the Chasers, spotting the snitch first was the only real guarantee of victory.

After the traditional captain's handshake was out of the way- Harry briefly thought it looked like Wood and Flint were trying to break each other's hands at the time-, the two teams were in the air scanning the field, the Chasers moving in for the quaffle while Harry hovered in the air scanning for the snitch, ignoring Malfoy's taunts from underneath him as he flew around apparently showing off the speed of his broom; responding to Malfoy's bragging would accomplish nothing, but catching the snitch first would _definitely _prove something...

A Bludger suddenly hurtling towards him forced Harry to re-evaluate his original thoughts on the current game; even with his reflexes sharper than they'd ever been after all of Wood's training, he still felt the ball ruffle his hair as it went past him.

"Close call, Harry!" George called out as he flew past him, the club in his hand already drawn to send the Bludger flying towards the nearest Slytherin Chaser- Harry vaguely recognised the man in question as Adrian Pucey-, only for the Bludger to suddenly change direction and hurtle towards Harry without any impact from any of the other players.

Harry quickly dived to try and evade the oncoming black missle, but George's subsequent attempt to hit the Bludger towards Malfoy met with the same result as his last attempt to knock the ball; it automatically boomeranged back in Harry's direction, forcing Harry to put on an extra burst of speed to try and evade it. Spotting Fred waiting for him up ahead, Harry ducked down to allow Fred to knock the Bludger off-course, but Harry had barely had time to draw breath before the Bludger was hurtling back towards him, leaving him with no other option but to keep on flying as the rain began to splatter down in his face.

_Damnit_... he thought to himself, as he noticed Fred and George frantically hurtling after him, clearly determined to try and force the Bludger off him; nothing they'd tried so far had worked for more than a few seconds, but if they started focusing on him like this they weren't going to accomplish anything but make it impossible for him to do _his _job on the team.

"GO!" he yelled at the Weasley twins as they began to approach him. "I can _handle _this; just _go_!"

"Are you _nuts_?" Fred protested, swinging a bat to deflect another attack from the Bludger. "This thing is _psychotic_; if it's left alone-"

"I can outrun it; the rest of the team still need you to deflect the _other _one!" Harry roared, taking advantage of the Bludger's latest approach to demonstrate his point by doing a quick loop-the-loop to throw off its aim. "Look, with you two crowding me like this I'll _never _catch the Snitch; the Slytherins have got enough of an edge as it is without you two being out of the picture! Get down there and let me _handle _this!"

Fred and George exchanged grim glances with each other for a moment, but then they saw the other Bludger being directed towards Angelina as she approached the goal and were forced to turn around and dive towards the Chaser, knocking the Bludger away in time for her to score a goal despite the Slytherin Keeper's efforts; he'd been so busy relaxing in one corner of the hoops that he hadn't had time to react before Angelina had beaten him to it and thrown the Quaffle through the hole.

Whether people weren't certain what to do about his Bludger predicament or simply hadn't registered that it was a problem at the moment- particularly given his current strategy of weaving among the Slytherins to try and shake it off; many of them were only saved from getting struck a glancing blow by the Bludger due to their faster brooms-, Harry wasn't sure; right now his main priority was just to try and find the Snitch before the Bludger broke his spine or something like that.

The rain was making it hard to see even without the issue of the speed he was trying to maintain at this point, but he kept up a continuous roller-coaster ride of speed while trying to maintain relatively close proximity to the Slytherins in the hope that his unwanted follower would do something to one of them while it was pursuing its apparent 'obsession'- for lack of a better term- against him. He was just turning to aim towards Malfoy- so far he'd been proven right in his 'speed versus experience' theory; Malfoy was faster than he was in a straight race but his reflexes were significantly superior to his rival's when it came to conducting aerial manoeuvres- when he spotted something that made him almost halt mid-air; the Snitch was hovering _inches _above Malfoy's left ear as his Slytherin counterpart smirked at him.

Harry didn't even stop to think; hoping that the Bludger behind him would prove a sufficient red herring to dissuade Malfoy from realising what he was _actually _after, he put on a burst of speed directly towards Malfoy, the Slytherin's eyes widening in fear as he dived out of harm's way, allowing Harry to grab the Snitch-

The sudden sound and feel of something solid and heavy striking him in the back sent Harry hurtling towards the ground, only vaguely having time to register that the Bludger must have struck him in the back while he was slowing down after grabbing the Snitch.

As he hit the ground, raising his arms to take the brunt of the impact to his gloves- a part of him dimly noted that at least he could still feel his legs; at least that meant the Bludger hadn't actually _broken _his spine-, he allowed himself a brief moment to smile at the sight of the fluttering Snitch clutched in his right hand before he passed out.

* * *

As he regained consciousness a few moments later, he found himself looking at the elaborately-clad legs and feet of the one teacher he _didn't _want to see right now.

"Oh no... not _you_..." he muttered in frustration.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said, smiling at the crowd of Gryffindors gathering around them. "Not to worry, Harry; I'm about to fix-"

Before he could say any more, Hermione was standing in front of Lockhart, glaring pointedly at the teacher with a cold intensity Harry hadn't seen her assume since the time she'd been trying to figure out what potion to use during the attempt to recover the Stone.

"He's _going _to Madam Pomfrey, _Lockhart_," she said simply, her fingers tightening around her wand even as she held it under her arm, glaring resolutely at the teacher before her.

"I assure you, I know what I'm-" Lockhart began.

"Potter _will _go to a trained mediwitch, Professor Lockhart," McGonagall's voice suddenly cut in from off to the side, matching Hermione's hard stare at the professor with one of her own. "Whatever you may write, you are not an official Healer or medi-wizard, and hence have no place attending to Potter's health; he shall be taken to the hospital wing immediately."

"Exactly!" Wood said, smiling at Harry as McGonagall waved her wand at Harry and his body levitated up into the air, Harry wincing slightly at the pain in his back but nevertheless trying to ignore it. "Great job though Harry, really; your best catch yet, I should say…"

* * *

Lying in the hospital wing later that night, Harry had to admit that the injury could have been worse in the end. The pain in his back from where the Bludger had struck him meant that Harry had to spend the night lying on his front, but Madam Pomfrey had assured him that he'd regain all feeling in his extremities once the night was over and that there had been no permanent nerve damage done to his spine. Hermione had told him that the rogue Bludger had been destroyed by a couple of curses from some of the older students when it had continued to try and attack him even after the game was over- Fred and George had barely managed to keep it away from him long enough for someone with a wand to get down to the field-, but that left them with no means of determining who was actually responsible for the whole incident in the first place.

As annoying as the lack of information about whoever was behind the attack was, Harry was initially content simply to sleep it off and forget about the whole mess, until he woke up in the middle of the night, his lower back feeling as though something was stretching it and a pair of wide eyes staring at him with a somewhat tearful frustration.

"What the…?" Harry muttered, before his eyes widened in realization at the identity of the figure before him. "_Dobby_?"

"Harry Potter came back to school..." the house-elf said, shaking his head as he whispered miserably, seemingly ignoring Harry's words. "Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter; why didn't Harry Potter go home?"

"Hold on... you want me to go home?" Harry said, looking in confusion at the elf as he lifted himself up slightly off the bed, taking care to avoid moving his back too much in case he strained his still-healing muscles too much too fast. "But... hold on, we _talked _about this; I _have _to be here-"

"You cannot!" Dobby said, shaking his head vigorously. "Dobby thought that Harry Potter could after his last meeting, but terrible things have happened-"

"Uh... a _cat _being Petrified is a sign of terrible things?" Harry cut in, looking uncertainly at the elf before him, his anger pushed aside in his confusion. "I'm not saying it's not an issue, but..."

His voice trailed off as he looked at Dobby, his eyes widening slightly in understanding.

"You _know _who's behind this, don't you?" he said.

For a moment Dobby simply stared at Harry, his eyes wide and lips trembling, before he turned to face the nearest wall, only for Harry to grab his pillowcase before he could so much as jump off the bed.

"OK, so that comes under the heading of things you can't talk about; let's... move on, huh?" he said, hoping Dobby would take the hint; the last thing he wanted was a brain-damaged elf on his case-

"Hold on..." he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Dobby, going over the implications of the house-elf's presence in addition to the other inexplicable occurrences that had happened since the last time he'd seen him. "Was the barrier sealing itself when Ginny and I tried to get to Hogwarts _your _doing?"

"Indeed yes, sir," Dobby replied, nodding his head once again. "Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterwards," (Harry couldn't help but wince at the description even before he noted Dobby's currently-bandaged fingers; the wounds must have been serious if they were still there even now), "but Dobby didn't _care_, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was _safe_, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way-!"

"Look, I get that, but would you mind telling me _what _changed that made you decide trying to send a deranged Bludger to try and _kill_ me was better than me facing whatever's going on here?" Harry asked (He hadn't thought about the connection consciously before he spoke, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth it was obvious).

"Not _kill _you, sir!" Dobby protested, clearly shocked at the implication. "Never kill _you_! Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!"

"And I'm sure you had _total _guarantee that I wasn't going to end up breaking my _neck _when I was knocked off my broom trying to evade that thing..." Harry muttered, looking grimly at the house-elf with narrowed eyes. "Seriously, what could be so bad that you'd prefer me to take _that _much damage?"

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase (Harry made a mental note to look up why Dobby actually wore that thing; he somehow doubted that it was simply a fashion statement, even if it was a terrible one). "If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elfs were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sit... And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-"

Harry only just managed to stop Dobby from hitting himself with the water jug on the bedside table, wincing slightly at the pain in his back as he turned slightly to get a better angle to halt the elf's actions even as he tried to ignore it.

"Hold on; the Chamber?" he said, looking at Dobby in confusion. "I thought the monster in there was only meant to go after muggle-borns; why would it want me?"

"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen - go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous -"

"If you think I'm going to leave because it _might _be dangerous for me and abandon everyone who _will _in danger to deal with it instead, you _really _don't know me…" Harry muttered, glaring in frustration at the elf; Dobby might mean well, but he really wasn't making this easy…

The sound of footsteps approaching the hospital wing from the passageway outside cut off any further attempt Harry might make to talk to the house-elf, Dobby vanishing into thin air with a terrified gleam in his eyes and leaving Harry with no other choice but to lie back down on the bed while trying to keep his eyes on the door without making it obvious that he was awake. As he silently watched the door, Dumbledore backed into the infirmary wearing a long woolly dressing-down, what seemed to be a statue in his hands, Professor McGonagall appearing a second later carrying the statue's feet as they laid it on the bed before she hurried off to collect Madam Pomfrey. Trying to remain still, Harry silently listened to the urgent voices speaking out of his line of vision, until McGonagall swept back into view, Madam Pomfrey close behind her and pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered a few moments later, following a sharp intake of breath as she saw the 'statue'.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found him on the stairs."

"There was a bunch of grapes next to him," said Professor McGonagall. "We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter."

Trying to control the unpleasant lurch he felt in his stomach at that comment, he slowly raised his head the necessary few inches to look at the statue, a ray of moonlight illuminating the face of Colin Creevey as he stared, wide-eyed and blank-faced, up at nothing, his camera still clutched in his hands.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," McGonagall responded with an uncomfortable grimace. "But I shudder to think… if Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate… there's no way to know _what _might have…"

For a moment, the three of them could only stare silently at the still figure of the muggle-born photograph enthusiast, before Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" McGonagall asked eagerly.

Dumbledore declined to answer verbally, but instead simply opened the back of camera, releasing a jet of steam and the clear scent of burnt plastic.

"Melted," Madam Pomfrey said wonderingly, clearly stunned at what they had just witnessed. "All melted..."

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," Dumbledore replied, his tone grim as he looked at the other two members of staff, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

"But Albus…" McGonagall whispered, sharing stunned glances with the clearly-shaken Madam Pomfrey. "Surely… who?"

"The question is not who," Dumbledore said, his eyes on Colin with a grim stare. "The question is _how_…"

Harry was only slightly comforted by the fact that Professor McGonagall's expression made it clear that she didn't understand this any better than he did.

From what Dumbledore was saying, it sounded like he already had some idea about who was responsible for this, but if that was the case why hadn't he taken action to do something about it…?

And _then_, of course, there was the whole issue of what Dobby had said about the Chamber of Secrets having been opened before; while that statement _did _lend evidence to the idea that Malfoy's father might have opened it himself at some point, that still didn't answer the question of why it would have only been opened twice if they were aware of their heritage…

When you added in the factor that he still didn't know what kind of monster was in the Chamber in the first place, or how it could do what it had done to Mrs Norris and Colin, it seemed like Dobby's visit had just left him with more questions than answers…

On the other hand, he at least knew that he was on the right lines for finding out what was _really _going on in the school at the moment; until he knew more about what was happening, Malfoy was still the most likely candidate for the Heir's true identity, which made him the obvious target for an investigation until they knew otherwise.

_Detective work_, Harry mused grimly, turning his head to stare at the blank wall on the other side of the hospital wing as he waited for sleep to come. _It might be intellectually stimulating, but it's _definitely _difficult working out the fine details…_


	9. The Duelling Club

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

Colin's attack sparked off a revived wave of rumour and suspicion regarding the possible identity of the 'Heir' identified in the original message. The first-years were moving around gathered in tightly-knit groups as though scared they'd be attacked if any of them were left alone for longer than a few minutes. Harry noted that Ginny in particular was feeling the effects of the whole experience- Colin had apparently sat next to her in Charms-, but he could rarely find the time to talk to her; any time he tried to find her, Fred and George attempted their typical attempt of 'cheering her up' of covering themselves in fur or boils and jumping out at her (Precisely how scaring her was meant to help her get over her current fears was something Harry didn't understand, but it helped to know that not even Ron fully understood the twins' reasoning despite having known them for his entire life), and even when he managed to find her alone she seemed to ignore him for some reason, walking hurriedly past him with her head down at such a rate that he never felt comfortable following her.

The current 'semi-secret' trade in protective amulets and talismans was another issue prompting some concern at the time, but Harry only had to take a brief check at some of the items and the subsequent responses to the purchases before concluding that it didn't matter; even after buying the talismans people didn't stop being cautious about what was going on around them, so whether or not the 'protective charms' actually worked didn't matter.

The most important thing to draw his attention at this time, however, was the need to finish the Polyjuice potion so that they could question Malfoy. The Christmas holidays had provided them with a good excuse, at least- Harry and Hermione had written home to inform their parents that they were staying at Hogwarts to work on some coursework that they couldn't do at home, which was technically true enough-, particularly since Malfoy was staying as well, but the bicorn horn and boomslang skin remained absent from their small collection of ingredients, and the prospect of raiding Snape's stores was _not _something that he felt entirely comfortable about.

It had been swiftly decided that Hermione would be the one to actually do the stealing, given that she had the clearest idea what to look for as well as having the best chance of coming through the whole experience with minimal consequences; Ron wasn't stealthy enough to pull it off and Harry was so perpetually in the metaphorical doghouse with Snape that he'd be in far more trouble if he was caught than Hermione would be in the same situation.

Harry wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's class as the 'distraction', of course, but he supposed it could be worse; so long as he was careful to time it properly, not even Snape could legitimately 'charge' him with something that he had _absolutely _no evidence of (Not that he harboured any doubts about what would happen to him the next time he ended up in trouble for some reason).

Finally, the opportunity for their small 'raid' took place during the next Potions class, Harry casually ignoring Malfoy's attempt to provoke him and Ron by flicking puffer-fish eyes at them by making brief plans about what he'd do to the vividly platinum-haired boy at some later date, simultaneously keeping an eye on his Swelling Solution to try and get it to a more solid form...

Then Hermione nodded as Snape turned to examine Neville's potion, and Harry seized his chance, pulling out one of Fred's Fillibuster Fireworks and giving it a quick prod with his wand, lobbing it into the air to land in Goyle's cauldron while simultaneously using a quick Flippendo to knock over another cauldron a bit closer to him (He was hoping that the differing distances from the two targets would prompt Snape to focus his attention on another area of the classroom).

As soon as the firework hit its target, Goyle's potion exploded, showering the class, while those in front of the knocked-over cauldron- Seamus Finnigan's, Harry noted with a slightly guilty smile; he'd been aiming pretty much at random, but striking another Gryffindor's cauldron should at least limit the idea that the two 'attacks' were connected- had to move out of the way before their shoes and feet became too big for either of them to move easily.

As Snape worked to restore some degree of order and pass around a Deflating Draft- one of the few occasions where he seemed willing to help all students, even if the Slytherins got 'priority' over the Gryffindors to receive the potion-, Hermione slipped into the office, leaving Harry to carefully keep an eye on Snape while Ron- taking advantage of his currently-enlarged arm from where Seamus's cauldron had spilled over him- slipped the blackened remnants of the firework into his robes, thus eliminating Snape's only real evidence that the incident had been anything more than a freak accident.

As Hermione snuck back out of Snape's office and returned to her seat, Harry wasn't sure what made him feel cheerier; the fact that they had the necessary ingredients to continue with the potion, or the fact that Snape actually had to take points _off _a Slytherin for Goyle's 'mistake' (Seamus had still lost points for making things worse, but the fact remained that it was a slight victory for them).

* * *

The potion was still progressing a week later when the three of them saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board in the main entrance hall, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up.

"They're starting a Duelling Club!" Seamus said, turning to look at them with an eager grin. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind duelling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."

"What; you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Ron said, smiling slightly at the idea even as he couldn't help but study the parchment himself out of interest at the idea.

Returning to the great hall that evening at eight o'clock, the three of them were surprised to see that the traditional long tables had vanished, the hall now being replaced by a golden stage along one wall lit by thousands of candles floating overhead, most of the school excitedly assembled before it.

"I wonder who's teaching us?" Hermione asked, looking at the crowd around them with an eager curiosity as they stared at the stage. "Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young; he seems like the most obvious candidate.

"Just so long as it's not- oh, _nuts_..." Harry began, his hopes of an interesting experience being cut short at the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart walking onto the stage in deep plum-coloured robes, followed by Snape in his traditional black with a scathing sneer on his face as Lockhart called for attention.

"Now," Lockhart said, once he had everyone looking at him- Harry couldn't believe some of the sickening expressions on the faces of some of the girls in the room; if it wasn't for the sceptical expressions on Hermione and Ginny's faces that made it clear they didn't completely buy what Lockhart was trying to sell he would probably have tried something drastic (Whether to himself or Lockhart he wasn't sure)-, "Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works."

Harry was already beginning to contemplate walking out of the hall before this went much further; if this was just another opportunity for Lockhart to show off, he wasn't going to give the guy further ammunition.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, flashing a wide smile as he indicated the Potions master with an unnecessary flourish. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

Privately, right now Harry was more inclined to route for Snape more than anything else; Lockhart might just be a prat compared to Snape's more evident grudge against him, but at least Snape actually taught something _useful _when he wasn't making his evident distaste for anything that wasn't a Slytherin clear to his students...

As Lockhart and Snape bowed to each other- Snape merely inclining his head while Lockhart made a more overly-elaborate gesture involving swirling his hands-, Harry barely paid attention to Lockhart's talk about wands in 'accepted combat positions'- he somehow doubted he'd ever be in a position where he'd be worried about duelling etiquette; if he ever ended up fighting for his life again (As he probably would if Voldemort was still around), he doubted anyone would be interested in the rules)-, his attention only returning to the demonstration when Snape yelled out "Expelliarmus!" and aimed his wand at Lockhart, blasting the other teacher off his feet as his wand flew out of his hand, Lockhart coming to a halt only when his flying body hit the wall behind him.

Despite his typical anti-Snape attitude, Harry briefly contributed to the cheers for Snape from the Slytherins despite the anxious stares from some of the other girls in other houses, although he kept it brief to avoid attracting too much attention to himself as Lockhart got back to his feet.

"Well, there you have it!" the 'Defence' teacher said, smiling at the pupils despite his unsteady walk back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Spell- as you can see, I've lost my wand- ah, thank you, Miss Brown-, yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do; I simply felt that it would be more instructive to let them see it rather than stop you..."

Harry couldn't tell if Lockhart actually believed that crap he was saying- it was clear to him that Lockhart hadn't known _what _to do about Snape's spell, but he could have an over-inflated view of his skills or simply be incapable of acknowledging when he was out of his depth-, but thoughts on the matter were put aside as Lockhart and Snape began to sort the various attending students into pairs, Ron being paired with Seamus while Hermione ended up with a Slytherin girl called Millicent Bulstrode that reminded Harry of a picture from _Holidays with Hags_, leaving Harry to face up against Malfoy.

"Face your partners!" Lockhart called out, now back on the platform; Harry barely inclined his head while looking at Malfoy, but the fact that Malfoy didn't do much in response did nothing to allay his guilt. "Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents- only to disarm them; we don't want any accidents- one ... two ... three-"

As Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry on 'two', Harry ducked to avoid Malfoy's early attempt at a spell- whatever his rival was attempting Harry doubted he wanted to experience it himself- before following it up with a quick Tickling Charm that sent Malfoy sinking to his knees, giggling unstoppably and barely able to move for laughing, giving Harry time to glance over at where Hermione had somehow ended up wrestling with Millicent Bulstrode- Harry's best guess was that Millicent had concluded that a spell-on-spell confrontation with Hermione would go poorly against her and so resorted to a more direct physical contest- while Ron was engaged in a relatively even confrontation with Seamus Finnegan, both having managed to simultaneously knock their wands out of each other's hands-

"_Tarantallegra_!" Malfoy's voice suddenly yelled through his constant laughing, Harry only just managing to neatly sidestep the spell- he'd moved too far away from Malfoy while studying the other duels for it to be immediately accurate, and he had enough warning to move further out of its path- and turn to glare at his rival before Lockhart's hells to halt the competition and Snape's yells of "_Finite Incantatem_!" brought the worst of the current chaos to a halt. The room might be filled with a haze of greenish smoke, Neville and Justine might be panting for breath on the floor, and Terry Boot appeared to have a broken nose- he wasn't clear on the names of some of the other students he could see-, but eventually the worst of the damage- none of it especially serious, Harry was grateful to note; if Lockhart tried to fix anthing he'd probably end up blowing someone's nose off or something- was dealt with and Lockhart was standing in the middle of the hall once again.

"I think we'd better continue by teaching you how to _block _unfriendly spells," he said, his eyes flicking around the room after a brief glare from Snape that was clearly intense enough to make sure even he got the point. "Let's have a volunteer pair; Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"

"A poor choice, Professor Lockhart," Snape said, gliding over to stand beside Lockhart in a manner that put Harry in mind of a slightly greasy Batman (He stopped that thought instantly; the last thing he wanted was Snape tainting the memory of one of his favourite comic book superheroes). "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells; we'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

Harry didn't even need to see Snape turning to look in his direction to know what was about to happen; he just walked up to the 'stage' that Lockhart had established and turned to face his opponent as Malfoy was walked up to the other end, subsequently tuning out anything that Lockhart might say to him and focusing on remembering a couple of details that he'd read about in the man's books (It was rather like reading _Moby Dick_, really; at least a third of Lockhart's books might consist of information about the man himself that you couldn't conceive _anyone _wanting to know, but there were some interesting plot points in there once you paid attention to what they were); hopefully they were more efficient than the man himself in this case...

"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy asked as the two walked forward to face each other, a confident smirk on his face.

"You wish," Harry retorted simply, hoping that he was remembering the charm right; reading about how to perform certain spells was one thing, but it was no substitute- or a poor one, anyway- from actually being able to _do _them...

Then, as Malfoy raised his wand, Harry called out "_Protego_!" and erected a magical shield between Malfoy and himself, only for his Slytherin opponent to yell out "_Serpensortia_!" and seemingly create a long black snake from the tip of his wand, which fell heavily onto the floor between them before raising itself to strike.

Harry froze automatically, the shield he'd just erected remaining frozen between him and the snake; he wasn't sure if shields like this could deflect physical attacks, and he couldn't immediately think of anything he could use to stop this snake from attacking him that would stop it from going after somebody else...

"Don't move, Potter," Snape said, clearly sounding frustratingly smug at Harry's current dilemma. "I'll deal with it..."

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted, brandishing his wand at the snake, only for the subsequent explosion to send the snake flying ten feet into the air before it fell to the main floor with a loud smack, hissing furiously as it turned to slither towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, fangs exposed and poised to strike as it stared at him...

"STOP!" Harry yelled, shifting the aim of his wand to point at the snake as he tried to recall what Lockhart had just attempted; maybe he could keep the snake up in the air until someone managed to destroy it...

To his surprise, the snake actually paused what it was doing and turned to look at him as soon as he spoke, an expression on its face that could have almost been called 'quizzical' if it wasn't for the sheer strangeness of the idea of a snake having any kind of expression on its face in the few moments before Snape waved his wand and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke.

Noting the slightly puzzled look from several students as though they were trying to figure out whether he'd done something wrong and how they should react about it if such was the case, Harry decided to take advantage of the current confusion and depart from the current confusion, moving rapidly- while taking care not to hurry- back into the crowd before heading for the door catching a glimpse of Ron's distinctive red hair as he and Hermione followed Harry's lead. The three remained silent until they had made it to the currently-deserted Gryffindor common-room, at which point Ron turned to face Harry with an urgent stare.

"Are you a Parselmouth?" he asked.

"Am I a what?" Harry asked.

"A Parselmouth," Ron repeated. "Can you talk to snakes? I mean, you said _something _odd there, but that could have just been you yelling at everyone to stay quiet with a long 'Ssshhh'..."

"What?" Harry said in confusion. "I didn't tell anyone to be quiet; I was telling the snake to stop..."

"Look, what's the big deal, anyway?" Hermione cut in, looking pointedly at Ron. "So Harry's got an extra talent or two; it's not like there's anything _serious_..."

She paused for a moment, her eyes widening as something occurred to her. "...Apart from the fact that Parseltongue's a _really _rare ability that dark wizards like Salazar Slytherin was famous for..."

"Oh, _crap_..." Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared upwards behind his glasses. "Now that's _really _going to set the cat among the pigeons if anyone starts thinking too much about what just happened..."

"Come on, is anyone really going to believe that you'd start attacking muggle-borns?" Ron asked with a slight smile that was probably meant in a teasing manner but came across rather weak. "I mean, you've lived with muggles practically all your life-"

"And my own biological relatives nearly ended up beating me to death on my sixth birthday; it wouldn't be hard for an overly-paranoid person to assume that I had a few 'issues' I was going to let loose on the muggle-borns at last," Harry muttered grimly. "Here's hoping nobody works it out..."

* * *

Fortunately, there never seemed to be any particular thought given to Harry's apparent display of Parseltongue in the subsequent weeks; Hermione had speculated that, given the relatively small amount Harry had actually _said _in the language in question, it was most likely that those people who'd been at the short-lived duelling club had pushed that moment aside in favour of discussing the more amusing topics of Snape's effortless disarming of Lockhart or some of the consequences of the would-be duellists' results of attempting combat with an inadequate knowledge of the necessary spells.

Unfortunately, Harry, Hermione and Ron couldn't push the incident aside as easily as everyone else had. Hermione and Harry had spent a great deal of time in the library going over everything they could find about parselmouths and the Potter family in case there really was some hidden link between Slytherin and the Potters that they hadn't heard about earlier, but there were no traces of anything in their research; a few sources actually suggested that there might have been links between the Potters and Gryffindor, but those rumours had been denied at the time by one of Harry's great-grandfathers.

The annoying bit at this stage, really, was the sudden turn the weather had taken as they approached the end of the year. The snow was suddenly so thick that Professor Sprout cancelled all Herbology lessons in favour of making sure that the increasingly-necessary Mandrakes were wrapped up warmly to ensure they were ready to treat Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey. Ron and Harry tried a couple of games of wizarding chess, but after Harry lost twice he decided it was time for a change.

"I'm just going for a walk," he said, pulling on a coat- the castle was frustratingly cold when the winter came- as Hermione took up his position opposite Ron; she could use the tactical practise that chess offered, and Ron enjoyed being the one teaching her something for a change. "See you later."

"Sure thing..." Hermione muttered, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she hovered her fingers between a pawn and a knight (She could never make up her mind how to start games like this), leaving Harry to walk out of the portrait-hole and walk through the corridors of Hogwarts. While the ability to walk around them without worrying about his invisibility cloak made a nice change- it seemed like half the time he went anywhere non-class-related these days was when he was trying to sneak somewhere or other without anyone knowing it-, he swiftly lost much interest in actually doing anything; he briefly tried browsing in the library for anything he might have missed earlier about parselmouths, but he swiftly lost any interest in that topic and headed back out, only to narrowly miss bumping into Hagrid as the gamekeeper came around a corner.

"Harry?" Hagrid asked, pulling up the enormous snow-covered balaclava he was wearing, a dead rooster hanging from his other hand. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Herbology was cancelled due to the weather; thought I'd see what I could find about a... project I'm working on," Harry replied; as much as he trusted Hagrid, the man's difficulties in keeping secrets stopped Harry from saying too much in case he unintentionally started creating rumours about Harry's abilities as a Parselmouth. "How about you; what are you doing here?"

"Second dead rooster killed this term," Hagrid replied, holding up the limp body with a slightly grim expression. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the Headmater's permission ter put a charm around the hencoop."

"Good luck with that," Harry said (Hagrid's wand fragments being kept in his umbrella might be a relatively badly-kept secret, but so long as Hagrid never drew significant attention to it he supposed everyone was generally willing to leave it alone). "I'll just head back to the tower; it's Transfiguration next and I need to get my books."

Harry had only just started along the next corridor up the stairs- this one far darker than the others due to a broken window letting in the wind- when he glimpsed something lying on the floor in front of him. Pulling out his wand, he cast a quick _Lumos _charm, and was shocked to see Justin Finch-Fletchley lying rigidly on the floor, shock frozen on his face as his eyes stared blankly upwards, only for his shock to increase at the sight of a blackened Nearly Headless Nick, floating six inches off the floor next to Justin with an identical look of shock.

Harry didn't know what to do at this point; someone else being Petrified was bad enough, but something capable of doing something like that to a _ghost_...

He'd barely turned around to head for the other end of the corridor to try and find a member of staff when a door opened behind him and someone screamed in shock, prompting a virtual torrent as people burst out from behind the other doors in the corridor to stare at this unique sight; Harry was forced to compromise a near-decade's interest in crime fiction by moving Justin out of the way before somebody could stand on him (Although he left Nick where he was out of a lack of any idea of what to do with him), the chaos continuing until Professor McGonagall arrived with her class- one of whom looked slightly like a badger; evidently a recent transfiguration had gone wrong-, setting off a loud bang with her wand that forced everyone else back.

Even after her arrival, however, Harry couldn't shake the confusion from his mind as he tried to take in the current wave of chaos, Justin and Nick being taken to the hospital wing- Nick being fanned along like a large cloud-, leaving Harry alone with McGonagall.

"Professor, I swear I-" Harry began.

"This is out of my hands, Potter," McGonagall replied briefly, indicating the other direction. "Come with me."

The two of them marched in silence around a corner, McGonagall stopping before a large stone gargoyle.

"Sherbert lemon!" she shouted, evidently triggering a password as the gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall split in two, leaving Harry and McGonagall to step onto the resulting spiral staircase as it smoothly took them up towards a gleaming oak door, which McGonagall knocked on once and promptly opened.

"Wait in there, Potter," McGonagall said simply as she looked at him. "I will... inform your sister of the reasons for your delay."

With nothing else left to be said, Harry walked through the door into the office behind it, leaving McGonagall to go back down the stairs.

Despite his fear about what might be awaiting him, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore's office was really rather fascinating. It was a large and beautiful circular room, filled with several curious silver instruments on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke amid various minor noises that Harry himself couldn't quite make out. The walls were covered with portraits of witches and wizards that Harry assumed were former Hogwarts headmasters, all resting quietly in their frames, as well as the distinctive appearance of the shabby Sorting Hat resting on a shelf behind Dumbledore's desk.

However, what really drew Harry's attention about his current surroundings was a golden perch positioned behind the door, revealing a decrepit-looking bird with vividly-coloured gold-and-red plumage and a short black beak, looking somewhat mournfully at him as a couple of feathers fell from its tail.

Despite its bleak condition, Harry recognised it at once.

"A _phoenix_..." he whispered in awe, the bird looking at him with a slightly tilted head and what could almost have been a smile if beaks had been designed for such an action. Walking uncertainly towards the bird, Harry reached out to touch it- the bird didn't look that unfriendly, just a bit tired-, but it burst into flames when he was still about a foot away from it, prompting him to yank his hand back in shock as the bird shrieked and collapsed into a pile of ash that gathered in a bowl below the perch.

"Ah, about time too," Dumbledore's voice suddenly said, prompting Harry to spin around as the headmaster walked down the stairs from the upper part of the office, smiling slightly at the pile of burnt remnants before him. "Fawkes has been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on..."

Leaning over to examine the small bowl of ashes, Dumbledore smiled as a tiny, wrinkled newborn bird poked its head out of the ashes, even as Harry couldn't stop a slight wince; he knew that nothing looked that good just after 'birth', but the 'new' Fawkes looked just as ugly as the old one...

"It's a shame you had to see him on a burning day," Dumbledore continued, sitting behind his desk as he glanced briefly at the creature. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes; they can carry-"

"Immensely heavy loads and their tears have healing powers, right?" Harry asked, grateful for a chance not to discuss the issue that had sent him there, even if it was only for a moment, only for a further delay to be provided when the door of the office opened with a loud bang and Hagrid and Hermione burst in, Hermione running to hug Harry while Hagrid stared urgently at the headmaster.

"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid said urgently (Although Harry found it hard to hear him over his concern that his sister was going to break his ribs from squeezing too hard). "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had _time_, sir-!"

"Hagrid's right, Professor; Harry would _never _open the Chamber- even if he _could_!" Hermione added, pulling away from Harry to slam her hands down on Dumbledore's desk (It wasn't exactly a physically imposing sight as her chin was only a short distance above the desk anyway, but it was the principle of the thing that Harry appreciated. "He's over _anything _that the Dursleys did to him, he's the kindest boy I _know_-!"

"Exactly!" Hagrid confirmed, waving the rooster in his agitation and sending feathers everywhere. "I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to, yeh've got the wrong boy-!"

"_Hagrid_," Dumbledore said loudly, shooting a brief glance at Hermione as he did so. "Yours and Miss Granger's concern is touching, but unnecessary; I do not think that Harry has attacked _anyone_."

"Oh," Hermione said, sheepishly removing her hands from the table. "Uh... sorry?"

"Right," Hagrid said, the rooster falling limply at his side as he moved back towards the door. "Well... I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."

"Uh... you don't think it was me, Professor?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at the headmaster as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

"No, Harry, I don't," Dumbledore replied, although his face was sombre as he looked at Harry and Hermione, Harry's adopted sister now standing beside him with an apprehensive expression. "I must ask you, Harry, Hermione, whether there is anything you wish to tell me; anything at all."

A brief glance between the two siblings was all they needed to confirm what the other was thinking; given their limited evidence about what was really going on, coupled with the progress they'd made in their own independent inquiries, they really didn't have anything _useful _they could tell him at this point.

"No," Hermione said at last, shaking her head as Harry did the same. "We're fine, Professor."

As they walked out of the office, however, the two of them could only hope that their decision to keep quiet about Malfoy wouldn't result in a _death _before they could question him...


	10. Polyjuice in Slytherin

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As was only to be expected, the double attack on Justin and Nick turned the previous nervousness into genuine panic, with Nick's fate attracting the most concern; the question of what could do something like that to someone that was already dead had attracted a not insignificant amount of questions that even Hermione's best research had been unable to answer so far.

Harry and Hermione were just grateful that they hadn't managed to get around to getting their parents a subscription to the _Daily Prophet _yet; it was hard enough claiming that they were unable to attend this year's family Christmas celebrations due to an ongoing research project- even if it was technically the truth, albeit with the research project being a private matter rather than a school one- without dealing with their attempts to deflect any inquiries about the latest news regarding attacks on the school.

As it was, the current panic about the Chamber meant that Harry and Hermione were basically left with only the Weasleys for company in Gryffindor, along with a couple of casual acquaintances in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the only bright spot about Hogwarts's dwindling population later in the year being the sight of Malfoy's continually-growing frustration whenever they saw him walking through the corridors. Ron attributed it to Malfoy being desperate to reveal his role in events, but Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was more to do with the current lack of activity from the Heir rather than any personal desire to take credit...

In the end, however, with the castle predominately empty and little _actual _work to keep them occupied, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys generally found themselves enjoying the relative peace and quiet. As an added bonus, the lack of people in the tower, coupled with the fact that they were still at Hogwarts, made it easier for them to practise duelling without anyone else bothering them. The twins were able to show them a couple of spells that the younger students hadn't covered yet, and even Percy offered a couple of suggestions for practise even if he didn't participate much himself, preferring to spend time apparently wandering the castle, although Ginny still tended to keep to herself working on something despite Hermione's efforts to include her (Given that she was the only one who could actually _enter_ Ginny's dormitory; the stairs turned into a slide if anyone else tried to go up them due to some old rule of the Founders that nobody could or would fix, and Harry didn't think that he or Ron could make enough of an impact to Ginny's mood to make it worth the effort to try and use his broom to navigate the stairs instead).

Finally, Christmas morning dawned at last, Harry waking up to find Hermione casually sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling at him as she held their usual presents from home in her hands.

"Late riser as ever, eh, Harry?" she asked, a slightly teasing smile on her face as she looked at her brother.

"You know me; any excuse to snooze over the holiday," Harry replied, stretching as he sat up in bed to take his present from his sister, glancing over at Ron just in time to see his friend sit up in bed only to automatically retreat back under the covers as he saw Hermione.

"Hold on; you're not supposed to be in here-!" he said.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Ron," Hermione said with a casual smile, tossing his present to him as she spoke. "Just thought I'd let you both know that the potion's ready- I added the last lacewings about an hour ago-, so if we're going to do this, it has to be soon,"

"Don't worry; I don't want to leave this for longer than we have to," Harry replied, before he nodded grimly. "OK, we've got everything together, and we're as ready as we'll ever be; all we need now is to get samples from whoever we're going to change into..."

Conversation was temporarily interrupted when Hedwig flew into the room, carrying a bag in her talons that she dropped on Harry's bed before landing on his shoulder, giving his ear a brief affectionate nibble as she landed.

"Hey, Hedwig," Harry said, smiling at his owl before he opened the bag provided and began to pass the presents inside between him and Hermione; their parents hadn't entirely accepted their explanation about the research project, but evidently it hadn't stopped them from sending their childrens' presents home via owl post.

Hedwig might be a 'private' pet in that nobody outside their immediate family could know about her- an owl might be nice, but it would have attracted too many questions about just how a normal owl could be as well-trained as she was if her existence became public-, but the Grangers were always willing to accept her visits, and Jane had mentioned to Harry more than once that she rather liked the owl anyway.

"Any news from home?" Hermione asked, as Harry pulled out a note that had been inside the bag and studied it.

"Just the usual, although they received that copy of _A History of Magic _we sent home; Mum says she'll slip it to Natalie as soon as she gets a moment," Harry replied, smiling reassuringly back at her.

"Who's Nat- oh yeah, that's your cousin, right?" Ron asked, as he rolled his eyes slightly at his mother's traditional sweater before turning his attention back to his friends. "How's she coping with... well, with learning about all this?"

"Sounds like she's fine, anyway; apparently she's been writing to Mum and Dad for some ideas about what she should expect when she starts here," Hermione replied with a smile. "She's definitely interested in watching a Quidditch match or two, but she doesn't think she'd like to actually participate; it sounds like she's worried about her reflexes in a high-intensity situation."

"Drops stuff, huh?" Ron asked.

"She's a bit like me in that regard; she tends to overthink things when she's on the spot and takes too long to take action, even if she can plan out answers like nobody's business," Hermione clarified, before she sighed and turned back to the present, putting the new books from home aside. "Anyway, we'd better get on with things; we've got to work out how we're going to get samples of Crabbe and Goyle for you two to get into the common room, and then-"

"Hold on; who said you were coming?" Harry interjected.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking sharply at her brother. "But-"

"Look, Hermione, no offence, but you said yourself that you're not the best when it comes to on-the-spot improvisation; whoever you posed as, you might slip up if you're asked the wrong question, and that's _before _you take into account the fact that we're going into a house that's practically bred to consider you scum just because of who Mum and Dad are," Harry clarified, looking resolutely at her. "Besides, we're taking enough of a risk trying to pass ourselves off as Crabbe and Goyle, and we _know _that they spend enough time with Malfoy for it to make sense that they'd be asking him these kind of questions; add in the fact that we don't exactly know which of the remaining Slytherin girls spends enough time with Malfoy to make it convincing enough for her to be asking the kind of questions we want to ask, and you coming along makes no sense."

After staring in frustration at Harry for a few moments, Hermione sighed and nodded.

"Hard to argue with that kind of logic, really..." she said, groaning as she looked at her brother in exasperation. "We both watched too much _Star Trek _at times, didn't we?"

"It's an interesting series; that it indirectly teaches the value of logical thinking is just a nice bonus, really," Harry said with a shrug, before he turned the conversation back to their immediate concerns. "Look, let's just enjoy the feast; we can worry about the potion and infiltration later on."

"Shouldn't be too hard, anyway," Ron noted with a slight smile. "All we need to do is drug Crabbe and Goyle, grab some hairs, and then get to the common-room; simple and effective, innit?"

"So long as we can find somewhere secure to put them while we're working, the logic sounds fine to me," Harry confirmed, nodding in approval at his friend's neat summary of the situation; evidently spending time with two brains was rubbing off on the redhead.

Their plan might still need a bit of fine-tuning, but so far everything seemed to be going fairly well...

* * *

As he sat in the hall later on, Harry had to admit that the teachers did an excellent job when it came to attending to their work. There were around a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees standing around the hall, along with thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, to say nothing of enchanted, warm, dry snow falling from above. Dumbledore's occasional carols were slightly unusual, and Hagrid's voice began to reach almost uncomfortably loud levels as he drank more and more eggnog, but minor details like Percy's unawareness of his prefect badge now saying 'Pinhead' helped to make up for that.

Talking of the Weasleys, Harry was surprised when he noticed Ginny sitting at the end of the table on her own, slightly removed from the rest of her family; Fred and George were apparently otherwise occupied at preventing Percy registering the changes in his badge and Ron and Hermione had sneaked off earlier to make a last check of the Polyjuice potion while Harry finished his cake.

Ignoring Malfoy's attempts to insult his sweater as the Slytherin left the great hall, Harry walked over to sit down beside the youngest Weasley, smiling slightly at her as she glanced up at him in surprise.

"Hey," he said, as she looked up at him before lowering her head again, blushing furiously. "First Christmas away from home, huh?"

Ginny simply nodded awkwardly in response, her face concealed by her long hair, which was trailing over what remained of her food.

"Yeah, I know how you feel; it's my first Christmas away from my family- well, my adopted family, but they're the only family I really _remember_- too," Harry said, smiling encouragingly at Ginny as she brushed a lock of hair away from her face to look slightly uncertainly at him. "I mean, it's easier because Hermione's here, and Mum and Dad know that I'd _like _to be home if we didn't need to do stuff here, but that doesn't mean I don't wish that I could see them."

"Yeah..." Ginny said, her voice low as she nodded awkwardly in response to Harry's statement, smiling uncertainly over at him. "I spent all year with Mum and Dad last year..."

"And now they're gone and you're here on the edge, right?" Harry said, nodding sympathetically at her. "Look at it this way; at least you _know _you have a family who cares. I spent my first Christmas- that I can remember, anyway- being left in the cupboard so that I wouldn't break my cousin's toys or something like that..."

"_What_?" Ginny said, looking at Harry in shock, embarrassment apparently forgotten with this new information (Harry was just grateful that she was able to keep her voice relatively low; the last thing he wanted was any more attention). "You were kept in a _cupboard _on _Christmas_?"

"The Dursleys never liked magic even when I didn't know I was doing it," Harry said, shaking his head grimly before he smiled and glanced over at Ginny. "It's why I've always been grateful to Hermione; she just... she accepted me when I was _me_, you know?"

Harry wasn't even sure he'd ever thought about that before he said it, but now that he'd voiced the thought, he realised that he meant it.

It wasn't that he thought that _nobody _in the wizarding world would ever be able to see him as 'Harry' rather than 'the Boy Who Lived'- Ron seemed to be getting past that issue, and most f his family were following his example, to say nothing of most of his year-mates-, but Hermione had accepted him when he was just the one with no possibility that his status as the second had any impact on anything...

Glancing up, Harry saw Ron waving urgently at him from the door, and sighed as he looked back at Ginny.

"Sorry, got to go; we've got a... project... we need to finish," he said, indicating Ron as he looked apologetically at Ginny. "But look, I'll talk with you a bit more later, OK?"

Ginny nodded briefly at him, a slightly hopeful smile on her face, but Harry wasn't able to stick around to see it as he hurried towards his friend; as much as he'd enjoyed the chance to talk to Ginny, finding out what Malfoy was up to had to come first.

"Any luck?" he asked, as they walked out of the hall and began to head towards the relevant bathroom.

"Grabbed a few hairs from Crabbe and Goyle and stuck them in a cupboard after leaving a couple of drugged cakes for them when they popped out earlier," Ron said with a smile. "Honestly, those two are thick; the things were _floating _in front of them, and they just ate the cakes anyway..."

"Eh, that's what generations of inbreeding will do to you," Harry said, taking some hairs from Ron's left hand before they walked into the bathroom, where Hermione was waiting with a couple of large Slytherin robes and larger shoes beside a steaming cauldron.

"You got them?" she asked, smiling as Ron nodded in confirmation. "Good, and I got these from the laundry; you'll need larger clothes to pose as Crabbe and Goyle."

"Good thing Malfoy left early, anyway; the sooner we can get this over with, the happier I'll be," Harry said, trying to restrain his gag reflex as he looked at the bubbling, mud-like potion behind his sister and the two glass tumblers beside it.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," Hermione said, glancing back over the book. "According to this, we just need to put it in the glasses and add the required hairs; after that, it'll just take an hour before we revert to our original appearances."

"Simple enough," Harry said, trying not to think about what they were going to do as Hermione ladled large dollops of potion into each glass. As Harry and Ron dropped their hairs into each glass, Harry wasn't sure if the snot-like colour of Goyle's potion or the brown of Crabbe's was worse; each evoked mental images of various bodily functions that Harry _really _didn't want to think about...

"Look, we'd better relocate; having all of us in here is going to be unpleasant enough even _before _we turn into Crabbe and Goyle," Harry said, indicating the door of the stall.

"Point," Hermione said, opening the door and smiling at her brother and friend. "You two move on; I'll wait in here."

As he moved into another stall, him and Ron grabbing the large robes Hermione had acquired, Harry suppressed the urge to just tip the potion down the toilet- it looked disgusting but he _had _to do this if they were going to know one way or the other what role Malfoy played in this mess-, quickly changed into the new robes provided, and swallowed the potion in two large gulps. The taste actually wasn't as bad as he'd feared, resembling overcooked cabbage rather than anything else, but then his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes- he briefly felt like he was going to be sick- and then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the tips of his limbs, followed by a feeling as though his skin had turned into melting wax before his hands began to grow larger and thicker right in front of him, his shoulders stretched, his forehead felt hair beginning to grow over it...

Almost as soon as the pain had started, it stopped, leaving Harry slumped against the wall of the stall as he examined his new body; it felt a lot heavier than his own, but otherwise it didn't seem as bad as he'd feared. Slipping his glasses into his pocket in case he transformed back before he could return to the bathroom, he turned towards the door and walked out of the stall, his eyes quickly falling on 'Crabbe' as he walked out of another stall.

"In_credible_..." Hermione's voice said, prompting Harry to glance over at where his sister was watching them both with a smile. "I mean, I read about what Polyjuice does, but actually _seeing _it..."

"Tell me about it; this is _unbelievable_..." Ron/Crabbe muttered, walking over to examine Crabbe's flat nose in the mirror.

"We'd better get going," Harry said, removing his now-tight watch and handing it over to Hermione. "We've still got to find the common room, and we're going to need someone to follow..."

Hearing a slight chuckle, Harry looked over at Hermione. "What?"

"Just... this is probably the only time we'll ever see Goyle showing any signs that he's _thinking _about something," Hermione said with a chuckle.

"Tell me about it; I sometimes wonder if Snape's got to fake that guy's records to keep him in school at all," Ron muttered, before he sighed and glanced at his watch. "We'd better go; we've got... it was an hour, right?"

"More like fifty-eight minutes now, but yes," Hermione confirmed after a brief glance at her own watch. "I'll wait here with your things; good luck."

After shrugging on their larger shoes, Harry and Ron left the bathroom and headed for the great hall after confirming that the corridors around the bathroom were unoccupied, focusing on perfecting the more minor details of their disguise as they walked, finally reaching the great hall.

"Any ideas?" Harry muttered, glancing over at Ron after a quick check inside the hall had confirmed the absence of any Slytherins.

"Well, the Slytherins generally come up to breakfast from there," Ron said, indicating the door to the dungeons. "Maybe we could just... wait and see?"

Almost as soon as Ron had spoken, a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance, but Harry stopped Ron before he could ask her anything; even from here, he could see the blue that signified Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin green.

After waiting a few moments for her to walk past, Harry glanced at Ron, shrugged at their obvious lack of alternative options, and hurried down the staircase, only to quickly become frustrated at the labyrinthine passages underneath the school (How the architects had been able to keep anything straight in this mess Harry didn't know; he'd have to ask Hermione if _Hogwarts: A History _provided any real detail about the architectural effort necessary to create the school in the first place). They had a brief near-run-in with Percy when he came out of a side room while they were searching, but Harry had convinced Ron to hang back long enough to determine that Percy couldn't help them and then hide in another side-room while the eldest Weasley in Hogwarts walked by; they didn't want non-Slytherins to know they were there just yet.

Finally, shortly after Percy had walked past, Malfoy's voice was heard coming from the other direction- judging by the tone, Malfoy was being as dismissive of Percy as he usually was of anyone in authority who wasn't Snape-, prompting the two of them to hurry out of the classroom just in time for their target to see them.

"There you are," he said, his usual slightly arrogant drawl in his voice. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?"

"Food's good," Harry said, shrugging slightly in the hope that it would be an acceptable Goyle-esque answer, before taking a leap and hoping that his new idea for a topic would convince Malfoy to say what they wanted to hear. "Something has to make up for the mudbloods, doesn't it?"

"Particularly with the likes of Potter, right?" Ron added, seizing on Harry's train of thought.

"Quite," Malfoy said, sneering scornfully at the suggestion they'd just raised even as he turned around to walk down another corridor. "Honestly, how he can actually _prefer _to live with them I don't know; what can a bunch of mudbloods and muggles have to offer that wizards can't?"

Personally, Harry preferred what he'd seen of muggle popular culture to wizarding culture- their history might be more interesting, but wizards didn't really seem to have much in the way of leisurely reading; almost everything they wrote seemed to have some kind of informative purpose behind it-, but he wasn't going to say that in his current appearance, particularly not when they were probably approaching the Slytherin common room...

"What's the new password again?" Malfoy asked Harry, as he finally halted in front of a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.

"Er-" Harry began.

"Oh yeah; _pure-blood_," Malfoy said, apparently unconcerned about Harry's confusion as a stone door opened in front of them, promptly walking through it.

Harry didn't take long to form his first impression of the Slytherin common room, and it definitely came up short compared to the Gryffindor one. Where Gryffindor's common room was warm and comfortable even in colour, the Slytherin one was longer with rough stone walls illuminated by round, greenish lamps, an elaborately carved mantelpiece surrounding the fire as various Slytherins sat around it. As Harry and Ron sat down in the chairs, Harry wasn't surprised to note that even the chairs weren't that comfortable; he was starting to wonder if part of the problem Slytherins had was that they had to deal with an uncomfortable atmosphere rather than just them being pre-inclined to be bastards...

"Honestly, you'd never know that Potter's family has such a 'good' reputation," Malfoy said sarcastically, shaking his head in exasperation as he sat down opposite the other two. "I mean, the Potters have always freely mingled with mudbloods, but I don't think anyone expected the last one to _like _living with them this much; you'd never know he had _any _wizarding blood in him, the way he goes on..."

Harry and Ron both decided to remain silent; neither of them entirely knew what to say that wouldn't risk giving them away.

"Then again, it's not like everything's not going downhill anyway," Malfoy said, snickering as he spoke. "Father's always said Dumbledore's been the worst thing that ever happened to this place; he's probably stopped the _Daily Prophet _reporting all these attacks to stop himself getting sacked, but that can't last forever."

Harry chuckled slightly out of a lack of anything else that he could do in response to that statement, Ron following his example as Malfoy looked slightly sceptically at them before their response satisfied him; probably Crabbe and Goyle were always a bit slow on the uptake.

"Honestly, I just wish I knew who the Heir was; maybe I could get them to make an exception and go after Potter as an 'honourary mudblood' or something like that..." Malfoy muttered, shaking his head in exasperation as he sat in the chair.

"Wha-?" Ron began, clearly incredulous at the idea that Malfoy didn't know anything about the Heir's true identity, only to be halted when Harry quickly reached over and gave Ron's arm a pointed squeeze to stop him saying anything else.

"You've really no idea?" he asked.

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how often do I have to tell you?" Malfoy said, looking petulantly over at Harry. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it."

Privately, Harry thought that just Malfoy knowing that much was suspicious- fifty years ago wasn't a massive amount of time, but it was long enough for most of the people involved to have moved on-, but Malfoy's later comments drew his attention back to his Slytherin counterpart. "But I know one thing; last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time ... I hope it's Granger."

Fighting down the urge to punch the boy who so casually insulted his sister, Harry instead tried another tactic.

"Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" he asked; if they hadn't been, it was possible that someone had come back in disguise...

"Oh yeah... whoever it was was expelled," Malfoy said dismissively. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

Remembering the brief reference they'd found to the wizarding prison in their reading about magical history, Harry had to admit that it sounded fairly secure; he might not agree with the idea that anything could be inescapable, but no escapes since it was established was definitely something to be impressed at.

"Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir get on with it, really," Malfoy said, shifting restlessly in his chair. "He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

Resisting the urge to smile at the thought of Malfoy's family in trouble, Harry tried to look concerned instead.

"Yeah..." Malfoy said. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-"

"Hah!" Ron said, grinning at that news, only to suddenly look awkwardly away from Malfoy as he reached one hand up and began to cough; only the fact that he was looking at Ron from the side allowed Harry to see that his friend's neck was 'shrinking' and he was trying to conceal it with his hands.

Clearly, their hour was up; they'd just have to be satisfied with what they'd been able to eliminate and go with that.

"Think he ate something that disagreed with him," Harry said, standing up and shrugging as he indicated the door while Ron did the same. "I'll just... go and help him get something."

With that, the two of them hurried out of the common room, leaving Malfoy looking after them in confusion as they hurried out of sight towards the stairs leading back to the great hall, ignoring the thumping sound from the cupboard where they'd stashed Crabbe and Goyle in favour of reaching their destination. Finally, after only a brief pause to remove their too-large shoes to avoid tripping, they arrived back at the second-floor girl's bathroom, returned to their usual appearances.

"Anything?" Hermione asked as they walked back into the bathroom, smiling hopefully at the two of them.

"Well, we _have _learned that the Chamber was last opened fifty years ago, that the person responsible was expelled, that the Malfoys have a secret chamber under the drawing-room floor, and that Crabbe and Goyle _are _as dumb as they look, but nothing that could really be of any use to us in this situation," Harry said, shrugging nonchalantly at his sister as he and Ron shrugged off their Slytherin robes. "Oh, and the Slytherin common room is a lot less comfortable than ours; it's no wonder that house has a bad attitude with atmosphere like that..."

"It's not like that's the only reason they're rotten-" Ron began.

"Pre-Hogwarts environment helps, I know, but I'm just saying that place was _not _conducive to relaxation unless you liked haunted houses with bad lighting," Harry said, sighing slightly as he looked back at Hermione. "But, on the bright side, we _did _get one over on them without anyone knowing it; always a good occurrence in my book."

"True," Hermione said, smiling back at Harry as she indicated the cauldron of polyjuice behind her. "Plus, this stuff keeps fairly well if you store it properly, so we might be able to get a few more uses out of this batch yet if we need them."

"Just so long as it's not for a while and I get to be someone less disgusting next time," Ron said, shaking his head as he rubbed at his throat. "I mean, _God_, essence of Crabbe was _disgusting_..."

All levity aside, Harry just wished that they knew what they could do next; with their most obvious lead exhausted, they were back to square one in their investigations into the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets...


	11. The Very Secret Diary

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

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AN: Hope you enjoy this one; I was just writing this chapter when a few ideas about creating a more significant divergence from canon came to me...

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

With their initial investigation having ground to a halt due to lack of options for further pursuit, Harry, Hermione and Ron turned their attention to more leisurely matters. Ron was soon able to persuade Fred and George to show them a few of the castle's secrets that they'd discovered over the years, and Harry and Hermione tried to spend a bit of time talking with Ginny, but Harry soon resigned himself to the fact that Ginny still fell silent and looked awkward when he tried to speak to her; he was generally forced to rely on Hermione as an intermediary to at least initiate the conversation with her, and even when she started talking Ginny gave the impression that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to tell her to leave.

They still carried out a few attempted research trips to the library, but without any new information about the monster or the chamber to go on, there wasn't much more that they could do. Harry had speculated about the possibility that his Parseltongue abilities had something to do with it, but he hadn't felt comfortable sharing that theory until he had a better idea what he could do with that possibility; he couldn't think of any snake that would have done anything to a _ghost_.

"Damnit..." Harry muttered to himself as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower after taking a brief detour to the infirmary during a rare quiet period; his hope that a second examination of the victims would have turned up some kind of clue that he'd missed earlier had proven fruitless, not that he'd harboured much hope of finding anything that way in the first place.

Here he was, swamped with so much Potions homework that he felt like he'd be in Sixth year before he'd finished it, faced with the possibility that he had some kind of connection to the monster walking around the school without any way of figuring out what that connection was, and nobody seemed to have the _slightest _clue what they were dealing with-

The sound of a frustrated outburst from the floor above cut Harry's debate with himself short, prompting him to hurry up the stairs and pause just out of sight of the yells, quickly identifying the speaker as Filch as he ranted hysterically about additional work before his footsteps became increasingly distant, storming off down another corridor before a door slammed behind him.

Glancing out at the corridor in question, Harry wasn't entirely surprised to find himself looking at Filch's now-common lookout post in the area where Mrs Norris has been attacked, a flood of water stretching out across the corridor from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Myrtle's wails now audible from the other side of the wall.

Taking a quick glance around to make sure nobody else could see him, Harry hurried along the corridor and opened the bathroom door, holding up his robes to stop them trailing in the water as he entered. Mrytle's sobs actually appeared to be far louder than they were normally, putting Harry briefly in mind of stories he'd heard of a banshee's wail without any of the usual side-effects, apparently hiding down in her usual toilet as water flowed and extinguished the candles.

"Uh... Myrtle?" Harry asked uncertainly. "What's wrong?"

"Who's there?" Myrtle asked with a sob. "Come to throw something else at me?"

"Why would I throw something at you?" Harry asked in confusion, walking over to stand in front of her stall.

"Don't ask me," Myrtle said, sticking her head out of the door as she looked tearfully at him. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."

"It's never fun when people think that's funny, is it?" Harry said, smiling sympathetically at her; back when he'd lived with the Dursleys, Dudley and his makeshift 'gang' might not have done anything really physically damaging to him (That particular 'privilege' had been saved for Vernon during the last few months, as his uncle's temper became increasingly aggravated by something; looking back, Harry could recall a few cases where he'd been doing what was probably magic, such as escaping pursuit by 'jumping' into more secure areas, but he'd learned from Hermione and the Grangers that looking for reasons why the Dursleys had beat him was an exercise in futility). "What did they throw?"

"I don't know _who _did it," Myrtle said, indicating her stall in frustration. "I was just sitting in my U-bend, thinking about death, and suddenly it fell throw the top of my head... it's over there, it got washed out."

Walking over to pick up the object in question, Harry raised a curious eyebrow as he found himself holding a slightly water-stained black-covered book, a quick examination of the interior revealing that it was a fifty-year-old diary that had once belonged to a 'T.M. Riddle'.

Riddle...

Now that Harry thought about it, hadn't he seen that name somewhere before? He and Hermione had been checking out the school awards room during one of their first few weeks here to find out some more about the school's history- he'd noticed his father's name on a Quidditch award of some sort, and his mother had apparently earned a few commendations for her own schoolwork-, and Riddle had won something... wasn't it some kind of award for special services to the school... fifty years ago...?

The dates matched, the time-frame seemed to work, and stopping the Chamber of Secrets from being opened any more _would _have counted as a pretty major thing to do for the school...

Eagerly, Harry opened the diary to examine its pages, only for his hopes to be immediately deflated when he realised that there was nothing inside it; the pages were all blank, with no trace of even water-damaged ink smears to suggest that something might have been written in here before it was dumped in the toilet.

Shaking his head, Harry slipped the diary into his pocket and left the bathroom; it might be worth some use as spare paper later on, even if its' worth as a clue seemed to be relatively non-existent...

* * *

Not wanting to mention the diary to Ron or Hermione until he had some idea why anyone would have wanted to discard it in the first place- it might appear useless to him, but you didn't go into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to dispose of something unless you _really _didn't want it to be found later on-, Harry ended up keeping it in his bag for the next few weeks, occasionally glancing over it in case he found some hidden clue that he might have missed the first time round.

He'd gone down to the trophy room during another quiet period to see if he could find further clues about Riddle there, but aside from discovering Tom Riddle's name on an old list of Head Boys and learning that he'd also received a Medal for Magical Merit, he failed to establish any other useful information about Riddle's past; he didn't even know what house Riddle had been in, although the fact that the diary had been purchased in Vauxhall Road suggested that he was muggle-born. Harry even checked out a couple of rune-related books in the library to see if there was some real-world equivalent of those 'moon-letters' that he'd read about in _The Hobbit_- writing that only appeared to the reader when it was viewed under certain lighting conditions- in case he could find anything in the diary that way, but that admittedly potentially shaky 'hope' was dashed fairly quickly; apparently, anyone writing in runes was felt to have done enough to conceal their secrets from unwanted readers without making things any more complicated.

With their investigation having failed, Harry and his friends turned their attention back to their ever-increasing work load, left with nothing else to do as far as the investigation went but wait until the mandrakes were ready and the Petrified students could be cured. Given the increased lack of attacks, Harry was starting to think that the Heir must have lost their nerve, although he definitely doubted Lockhart's theory that _he _was responsible for the Heir' abandoning his plans was even close to accurate...

However, even Harry's lowest opinion of the man couldn't have prepared him for what Lockhart had planned as a 'morale booster' later in the year- personally, Harry wondered if he was trying to draw attention away from his own shortcomings; the books themselves might have _some _interesting moments regarding some of his alleged victories, but either something strange was going on or Lockhart worked better under life-or-death pressure than in an academic environment given how useless he was-, when the students came down into the great hall and found Lockhart wearing fluorescent pink robes, pink flowers on the hall walls and heart-shaped confetti raining down from the ceiling.

"Oh God..." Harry groaned, trying to tune out Lockhart's ramblings- if he was being charitable, that was the best description for what the moron was saying according to what parts of the speech he couldn't ignore; the idea of Snape showing _anyone _how to prepare a love potion was ridiculous at best, and Flitwick looked like he was just embarrassed that Lockhart had even mentioned his name in connection to this mess- as he sat down for breakfast and looked over at Hermione. "Hermione, _please _tell me you weren't one of the forty-five people he just mentioned?"

"_Harry_!" Hermione hissed, looking over at him in exasperation. "I may have made a mistake at first, but I have _some _pride; I wouldn't go on doing it after you pointed out what a _twit _he was!"

"Good to know," Harry said, smiling in relief at his sister before he sighed in frustration. "Well, at least he isn't trying to use pixies to deliver the messages..."

"I'm not sure dwarves are much better, really; how'd he even get them to dress like that?" Ron asked uncertainly, sceptically eyeing Lockhart's golden-winged 'cupids' as they walked off into the corridors.

"I think that comes under the heading of things we don't want to know, starting with why the man likes wearing robes like that and progressing onwards from there," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he started eating.

The first few hours of the day weren't too bad apart from the dwarfs barging into the classrooms to deliver random Valentines to various students, much to the annoyance of the teachers, but Harry's opinion was definitely affected when one of the dwarfs caught up with him.

"Oy, you! 'Arty Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry as he was on his way to Charms. Glancing around the corridor, Harry cursed slightly as he saw a group of first-years nearby, Ginny amongst them; somehow, the idea of her seeing this just felt...

Then again, judging by what he'd seen of the dwarfs so far, they took their 'job' seriously- even if they didn't appear to like it that much- and tended to try and get it over with as soon as they found their 'target'; he might as well get this over with now rather than endure the potential humiliation of being physically assaulted by something that short.

"OK," he said, trying to sound somewhat dignified, "let's hear it then."

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  
__His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
__I wish he was mine, he's really divine,  
__The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

Even looking back, Harry was never sure how to feel about that; receiving the Valentine itself had been slightly embarrassing, and the last line raised a few questions about their motives, but the thought that someone liked him enough... in _that _way... to send him something...

He had no idea how to react, and it was probably just sent as a result of hero-worship given his 'Boy-Who-Lived' status, but it was still... nice...

Trying to ignore the slight laughs that were coming from the students around him as the dwarf walked away, Harry reached into his bag to pull out his book for the next class, only for his suddenly-fumbling fingers- his mind lost in thought about the Valentine's possible sender- to pull out his inkwell and the diary at the same time, a slight jostle as somebody walked past him causing him to lose his grip on the objects and send them all falling to the ground, his ink breaking over the books. Bending down to pick up the books, Harry noted with some relief that his textbook's thick cover had protected it from most of the ink, but only just had time to notice that the diary was suspiciously clean before Malfoy grabbed it from him with a mocking sneer.

"Are you that desperate for attention, Potter?" he asked, smirking as he jerked his head in the direction that the dwarf had walked off in.

"And how many of those have _you _received today?" Harry countered, momentarily wishing that he'd thought of something better before Malfoy's slight hesitation gave him a minor boost; it wasn't much of a victory, but it was something.

"As if I'd want anything that pathetic, particularly when it came from _her_," Malfoy practically spat, waving a dismissive hand at the first-ears who had been standing around him earlier. Glancing back, Harry was just in time to see Ginny turning a shade of red that closely resembled her hair before she ran off, covering her face with her hands.

_Ginny_? Harry thought to himself, briefly lost in the possibilities as he watched the younger girl run into her class, trying to look everywhere but at him. For a moment, he thought about following her, but he was already running late for his next class...

And, now that he looked down at the objects in his hands, another question occurred to him; why was the diary so suspiciously free of ink, without even a few spots on its pages?

Maybe things had just fallen the right way, but Harry somehow doubted it; coincidences were something that had ceased to exist for him the day he and Hermione learned that magic was real, and there had _definitely _been some spots of ink on the diary's cover earlier...

* * *

As he sat in his bed that night- he went up early to avoid receiving any more renditions of his Valentine from Fred and George; he appreciated their desire to lighten the mood but that wasn't really helping him-, Harry stared contemplatively at the diary, trying to come to a decision.

The ink think could be nothing, but it wasn't like he had a surplus of options available to him right now, and there was definitely something strange about this diary given the lengths someone had gone to while trying to get rid of it; maybe the writing in it needed fresh ink to 'charge' it or something?

It was stupid and risky, but with their investigation into the Chamber having hit a dead-end, it was all he could do to try and find out more...

Deciding to start small, Harry pulled out a new bottle of ink, dipped his quill into it, and left a blot of ink on the page, watching with a slight smile of confirmation as he witnessed the ink being apparently absorbed by the paper; at least now his theory had something solid to back it up. Taking a deep breath, Harry decided to start with the obvious and wrote down what he hoped could serve as an introduction; 'My name is Harry Potter'.

As his words shone before they were absorbed into the page, Harry only had to wait for a moment to receive a response, but it was far from what he had been expecting.

_Hello, Harry Potter_, said the words that had just appeared out of nothing on the page in front of him. _My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary_?

He'd been expecting something out of the ordinary, but even his wildest guess hadn't included the possibility of the diary writing _back_ to him...

As the words began to fade in front of him, Harry quickly scrawled down his response; 'Someone tried to flush it down a toilet'.

_Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink_, 'Riddle'- or whatever was responding to him; after reading a couple of _Swamp Thing_ comics, Harry wasn't going to assume that anything was even what it _thought _it was without harder evidence- said. _But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read_.

'What do you mean?' Harry wrote back.

_I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

'Would those things have anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets?' Harry asked; this was his first definite chance at getting new information beyond conventional historical information, and he'd worry about its potential source later. For a moment the diary 'said' nothing, and then further writing appeared.

_Of course it has to do with the Chamber of Secrets_, the new words said, the writing hurried, as though Riddle was trying to say everything he could before something stopped him. _In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned_.

'It's happening again here', Harry wrote back. 'Can you tell me who it was last time?'

_I can show you, if you like_, came Riddle's reply. _You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him_.

Harry momentarily hesitated after those words- how could this thing take him into Riddle's memory?-, but in the end, he knew that he had to take the chance; if this mess with the Chamber was ever going to end, he had to take some kind of risk if there was ever going to be any progress made in this whole mess.

'Yes', he wrote down.

As though that word had been a password of some kind, the book's pages suddenly began to blow forward as though caught in a high wind before halting at the pages displaying the middle of June, with the small square for information about June 13 displaying a small, television-like image. Leaning over to examine it more closely, Harry tried to make out what was in front of him, only to find himself suddenly falling forwards as the image widened in a whirl of colour while he fell headfirst into something...

As his feet hit something solid, he stood back up and shook his head to try to bring everything around him into focus, quickly surprised to register that he seemed to be standing in Dumbledore's office, except that the man sitting behind the desk was a very frail-looking old man with practically no hair on his head, reading a letter by candlelight.

For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd been teleported into this room or something- he'd read a bit about those 'Portkey' things when he and Hermione were researching magical means of transportation-, but dismissed that thought fairly quickly; not only did that fail to account for the strange image he'd seen in the diary before appearing here, but even if the wizard in front of him was deaf he must have made some kind of visual impression during his arrival. The only explanation that he could think of, based on Riddle/the diary's prior comments, was that somehow he had been transported into a memory of the past, invisible to anyone present in the memory while allowing him to witness it directly.

As the wizard walked over to the window, Harry took a quick glance around to confirm his theory, noting the absence of Fawkes's perch and various other silver instruments that had been present on the shelves in Dumbledore's time, leaving him as little more than a phantom observing the past rather than the traditional idea of ghosts observing the future...

A knocking on the door drew Harry out of his reflective thoughts as the headmaster called for the person on the other side to enter, the door opening to reveal a boy of sixteen with jet-black hair and a silver prefect's badge.

"Ah, Riddle," the Headmaster said, smiling slightly at him

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" Riddle replied, looking surprisingly nervous.

"Sit down," the now-identified Dippet said. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," Riddle said, gripping his hands tightly together as he sat down.

"My dear boy," Dippet said kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," Riddle said automatically. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that- to that-"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" Dippet said curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly (Harry wasn't sure how he should feel about Riddle 'condemning' the kind of life he'd lived himself at one point, but pushed that aside; as the Dursleys and the Grangers had taught him, standards of care that children received could vary greatly from place to place).

"You are muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," Riddle replied; Harry wondered if there was something off about the way Riddle said that, but concluded that he had more immediate matters to focus on right now. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents-?" Dippet asked.

"My mother died just after I was born, sir," Riddle replied, in a manner that was far too casual for Harry's liking; he didn't even _know _his birth-mother beyond those photos Hagrid had given him and he still missed her. "They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me; Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

"Ah," Dippet said, clicking his tongue sympathetically before he continued to speak. "The thing is, Tom, special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" Riddle asked, drawing Harry's attention directly on to the conversation as he moved closer, determined not to miss anything.

"Precisely," the headmaster replied. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl..."

He sighed for a moment, clearly torn up at the memory of the death in question, before he continued. "You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the, er... source of all this unpleasantness..."

"Sir," Riddle said, his eyes widening as though a thought had just occurred to him, "if the person was caught- if it all stopped-"

"What do you mean?" Dippet asked, a sudden anxious squeak to his voice as he sat urgently up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," Riddle replied, with the kind of haste Harry knew from experience reflected someone who was trying to cover up a mistake they'd just made.

"You may go, Tom..." Dippet said, sinking back into his chair in obvious disappointment as Riddle slid off his chair and walked out of the room, Harry quickly following him down the staircase. After Riddle had spent a few moments standing around in silent contemplation, biting his lip with his forehead furrowed, he hurried off down a corridor, Harry only partly surprised to find himself almost gliding after Riddle; if he was inside Riddle's memory, it only made sense that he would automatically stay close to what Riddle perceived himself. They avoided running into anyone else until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long auburn hair called out a question to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," Riddle replied, looking up at the wizard that Harry quickly recognised as a younger Dumbledore; even without the silver beard Harry was used to seeing, the school's future headmaster still carried himself with a strong air of dignity.

"Well, hurry off to bed," Dumbledore said, giving Riddle the penetrating stare that Harry was far too familiar with from his own time; it was enough to give the impression that Dumbledore had been born with that kind of stare. "Best not to roam the corridors these days; not since..."

He sighed heavily before he strode off after bidding Riddle good night, clearly lost in thought about the dark events that were currently plaguing the school, Riddle watching him walk out of sight before heading down to the dungeons.

Harry had expected that Ridde would take him to the chamber's hidden entrance, but was disappointed to find himself witnessing nothing more elaborate than the dungeons where he had Potions with Snape in the future, although far darker than even the dour teacher would have ever had it even on his worst day. As Riddle took up position inside the classroom, he pushed the door so far that it was almost completely closed, Harry only just able to see him standing by the door through the narrow crack he had left open in it.

Harry had no idea how long Riddle had stood there with almost statue-like patience- he wasn't even sure if normal rules of time applied in a place like this; maybe Riddle was able to 'fast-forward' his memory through the more boring parts of his recollections-, but, finally, he heard something moving down the passage, Riddle quickly getting out of the classroom and walking silently along the corridor, Harry close behind him. After a few minutes of walking, Riddle stopped once again, his head inclined in the direction of new noises as a door creaked open and a voice reached Harry's ears, muttering something about getting something else into a box, in a voice that Harry somehow recognised...

As Riddle jumped around the corner, Harry followed him in time to see the dark outline of a huge boy crouching in front of an open door with a very large box beside him.

"Evening, Rubeus," Riddle said sharply, prompting the boy to slam the door shut and stand up to look at him.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?" the boy asked, in a distinctive accent that Harry would have recognised even without the name.

_Hagrid _had opened the Chamber of Secrets?

Harry had never heard a more ridiculous theory in his life; Hagrid might have a fascination and sympathy for dangerous creatures that could go far further than was safe for anyone else around him, but the idea of him keeping something in the school after it had been _regularly _attacking people didn't fit what Harry knew of his friend by any stretch of the imagination.

If any of Hagrid's pets had been a danger to others, Hagrid would have taken them somewhere where they and others could be safe; even as a teenager, Harry refused to believe that Hagrid could have been that careless.

"It's all over," Riddle said, stepping towards the young Hagrid. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"What d'yeh-?" Hagrid began.

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone," Riddle said, in a deceptively casual tone. "But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and-"

"It never killed no one!" the young Hagrid said, backing against the closed door in the familiar defensive manner that Harry recognised from when Hagrid had been protesting Norbert's need for protection last year.

"Come on, Rubeus," Riddle said, advancing towards the door and the strange clicking sound behind it. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow; the least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered-"

"It wasn't him!" Hagrid roared. "He wouldn'! He never-!"

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand and casting a spell that created a brilliant light in the corridor before the door Hagrid had been holding closed flew open with such force that it knocked Hagrid into the opposite wall; Harry didn't know how much force Riddle would have needed to give that spell to move even a young Hagrid, but he was fairly sure that it would have been far more than the average wizard-

Then a large, hairy creature with a mass of black legs, several gleaming eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers emerged from the door, and Harry's eyes widened in shock.

_An Acromantula_? he thought in surprise, remembering the brief reference he'd found to the large spider-like creature in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

He knew that the book hadn't been that detailed- it was more of a casual reference text than a detailed book about magical creatures-, but he was _sure _they couldn't petrify people like this; they either ate you, poisoned you, or you were able to escape.

As Hagrid lunged desperately at Riddle as he attempted to aim his wand at the creature, Harry turned around and focused all of his mental effort on leaving the diary, witnessing the same bizarre whirlpool he'd seen earlier in reverse before he emerged back into the Gryffindor dormitories, shaking his head in shock.

A quick glance around was all that he needed to confirm that he was still alone, prompting him to stuff the diary under his pillow as he went over what he had just learned.

Riddle might have gone after Hagrid, but he _knew _that Hagrid couldn't have opened the Chamber of Secrets, and that acromantula couldn't have been the monster based on what he remembered of the creature from his book.

After the day he'd had, Harry wasn't that inclined to do additional research at this time of night- and he was too emotionally stirred-up after seeing Hagrid being accused of something that he _knew _Hagrid couldn't have done that he might overlook something important unless he gave himself the night to cool off-, but come the morning, he _would _look up that book and see what he could find...


	12. The Gamekeeper's Secret

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

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AN: Extract here from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, as my plot further diverges from canon; I'm a bit ambiguous about parts of this chapter, but I hope you like what I've got coming up in the next few anyway

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As he opened his eyes the following morning, Harry only briefly paused to note the time on his watch- breakfast had started, but it wasn't that early, and it was a weekend anyway; so long as he was quick, he could get away with doing his research here without anyone else knowing what he was up to-, before he hurried silently over to his trunk, opening it to pull out his copy of _Fantastic Beasts_ before returning to his bed. Opening the book approximately in the middle- the content was good but the introduction was surprisingly long-, Harry was about to scan through the pages to reach the section about acromantulas, but his eyes widened in shock as he took in the words on the page in front of him; just seeing the first few words of this entry was enough to leave him kicking himself that he hadn't realised that this was a possibility earlier.

_The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard and parselmouth, who discovered after much experimentation that a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent possessed of extraordinarily dangerous powers._

_The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume on its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death._

_If the food source is sufficient (the basilisk will eat all mammals and birds and most reptiles), the serpent may attain a very great age. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk is believed to have lived for close on nine hundred years._

_The creation of Basilisks has been illegal since medieval times, though the practise is easily concealed by simply removing the chicken egg from beneath the toad when the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes to call. However, since Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most Dark wizards as to anyone else, and there have been no recorded sightings of Basilisks in Britain for at least four hundred years_.

The whole article filled in so many blanks that Harry could have kicked himself for not realising the answer earlier- not that anyone could blame him or Hermione for forgetting it; it had been a relatively minor part of their overall reading last year-; now that he read it, the anomalous details about the attacks just fell into place.

God, hadn't the incident with the chocolate frog cards last year taught him anything about searching _all _available resources for information, rather than just focusing on the most academically-credible and detailed sources?

A serpent that could kill with its gaze, left in Hogwarts by one of the most infamous Parselmouths in history, able to be commanded only by someone who shared his unique talent to be unleashed against those who didn't fit his standards to be regarded as 'true' witches and wizards; it all made _sense_ now...

His mind racing as he put the books back into his trunk, Harry shrugged on his clothes- pausing only briefly when he realised that he'd forgotten to take his pyjama top off in his haste-, Harry hurried down the stairs, pausing only briefly when he ran into Ginny as she waited anxiously in the common room.

"Harry..." she said, looking awkwardly at him, her appearance giving the impression that she had something she urgently wanted to say even as her eyes flickered around to take in their surroundings as though worried someone else would hear it.

"Sorry, can't talk right now," Harry said, looking apologetically at Ginny as he ran for the portrait hole- he had to share his discovery with someone else as soon as possible, and while he liked Ginny as a person she hadn't been there for the majority of the investigation so far and it was asking a lot for her to accept what he'd just realised this suddenly-, only to pause and peer back inside before it had closed to deliver another warning. "Just... take something with a reflective surface with you; I have a feeling that it _might _help against Slytherin's monster."

It was a vague, unsatisfying warning, but it was all that he could offer right now; he didn't know enough about the situation to feel comfortable telling Ginny anything that he couldn't back up.

He'd given her a warning, and that would have to do; right now, he had to get down to the hall and let the others know what he'd just realised. With a last, apologetic glance at Ginny, he left the common room and hurried down the long path to the great hall, quickly walking over to where Ron and Hermione sat.

"I know what the monster is," he whispered to them as he sat down, shooting Ron a harsh glare as his friend opened his mouth to speak while Harry grabbed a couple of pieces of toast, sausages and bacon to serve as an improvised 'sandwich' before he stood back up and indicated the hall door, leaving Ron and Hermione no choice but to hurry after him as he began to chew at the makeshift meal.

"So?" Hermione asked, after they'd passed through the doors and Harry had eaten the last of his sandwich. "What is it?"

"It's a basilisk," Harry said, swallowing the last of his food as he looked grimly over at his friends; if they were going to make any progress in this case, it was best that they went into action with everything he'd managed to put together so far (Even if he was definitely going to try and find out more about that diary before he showed it to anyone else; anything that could 'pull him in' like that raised far too many questions for him to feel comfortable exposing anyone else to it unless he had to). "Oh, and apparently Hagrid was accused of opening the Chamber the last time- it was probably what led to him being expelled-, but apparently both cases resulted in victims being petrified, and I don't think acromantulas can attack like that-"

"_Hagrid_?" Hermione repeated, her eyes wide with shock as she looked at Harry, thoughts of their potentially public location forgotten in her shock. "Someone accused _Hagrid _of opening the _Chamber of Secrets_?"

"Ssssh!" Harry hissed, glancing urgently at their surroundings before allowing himself to relax; the corridor they were in was fairly empty, so it was unlikely that anyone would overhear them and wonder how they'd discovered this information, but he still spent a few moments making sure nobody was watching before he continued speaking. "The point is, I did a quick bit of research this morning, and it fits; I can hear the basilisk because it's a snake and I'm a parselmouth- apparently that's the only way anyone _can _control those things, although I wouldn't like to try and do it myself-, and the basilisk has just been petrifying its victims because, while it kills people when it looks at them directly, nobody _has _looked at it directly because there's always been something between it and them."

"Like Colin and his camera?" Ron asked, recalling what Harry had told them about the original attack.

"And Justin saw the basilisk through Nick!" Hermione said, snapping her fingers in understanding.

"With Nick getting the full blast of it even if his condition meant that he obviously couldn't die _again_..." Harry said, nodding in confirmation at his sister's assessment of the situation. "Mrs Norris probably saw the reflection in the leaking water from the bathroom..."

"Too bad it's not one of those things that can kill itself with its own gaze, huh?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry with a smile.

"I'd almost prefer the mythological Medusa, really; at least you could look at her in a reflection _without_ being injured yourself," Harry said, shaking his head in grim amusement- pondering the fine details of death-dealing gazes was academically interesting, but it would make it hard to kill something when they couldn't even look at it- before he looked more resolutely back at his friends. "The point is, we know what we're dealing with now, but we still don't have any idea where it is-"

"But we _do _have a... well, we have a witness to the last attacks," Hermione said, looking suddenly uncomfortable as she looked at Harry, clearly realising what he was already considering.

Even if none of them believed that Hagrid could have been responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets under any circumstances, the fact remained that there must have been _some _kind of evidence implicating him for him to be expelled as a result of the accusations, which at least suggested that Hagrid had done _something_ that helped whoever framed him set him up to take the fall.

In other words, no matter how they might try to find an alternative, Hagrid was their best chance at finding out any potentially useful information about the last time the Chamber was opened right now.

"I'll do it," Harry said, hating how clinical what he was about to say would sound; one thing he'd always slightly disliked about Sherlock Holmes was his ability to clinically predict how Watson would react to some of his requests, as though the man was a puzzle rather than a friend- even if he'd always made it clear that he respected Watson as a person when it counted-, and here he was, preparing to do the same to Hagrid...

"If Hagrid hasn't told us about this whole thing before now," he continued, guessing that Ron would want an explanation for his current train of thought, "I think he'd be happier if as few people knew about it as possible; given that I'm the one who found out about this stuff, it'll probably be easier if I approach him first."

"Talking of which-" Hermione said, looking curiously at him.

"I'll tell you where I found it later; I just wanted you both to know what I'd figured out so that you could go over what else we know about the monster and figure out where it might be hiding," Harry said.

Hermione didn't look entirely satisfied at this explanation, but nevertheless nodded and walked off towards the library, leaving Ron with no other alternative but to follow her as Harry turned to head for Hagrid's hut, after taking a quick double-check of his surroundings to confirm that nobody else had seen them.

He might not be looking forward to this, but at least he could tell Hagrid from the beginning that he knew Hagrid hadn't had anything to do with the original opening of the Chamber; the only question was whether Hagrid would ever react well to what he was about to ask...

* * *

After a few minutes of cautious walking- teachers were definitely becoming more paranoid give the potential threat of the monster in the Chamber; he'd come far closer to being caught than he liked, even if he'd always been able to duck into a nearby alcove before anyone saw him-, Harry found himself outside, hurrying down towards Hagrid's hut, contemplating and discarding multiple ways to approach the current topic with his friend before finally reaching the door and knocking on it.

"Harry?" Hagrid said as he opened the door, looking at the other wizard in surprise. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Not... exactly," Harry said at last, looking awkwardly at his friend as Hagrid invited him into the house, Fang looking curiously up at Harry from his basket. "I... well, there was something I wanted to ask you."

"What about?" Hagrid asked, smiling casually at him.

"Well..." Harry began, hoping that his makeshift cover story would pass muster- it wasn't exactly a lie, but there was the potential for a hole or two in it-, "I found an old diary recently, and... well, it was written around fifty years ago by Tom Riddle."

The cup that Hagrid had been picking up shattered in his hand as Hagrid suddenly squeezed his fist, the small object no match for Hagrid's natural strength when he wasn't paying full attention to what he was doing.

"I know you didn't do it, Hagrid," Harry said, targeting what had to be Hagrid's greatest concern in a situation like this, staring his friend directly in the eyes to emphasise his faith in the other man. "You'd never let anything run loose if it was even potentially dangerous, and from what Riddle described in the diary the creature he caught you with didn't sound like it was capable of causing petrification."

For a moment, Hagrid just sat and stared at Harry before he let out a brief, choking sob and grabbed Harry in his arms, giving him a hug that was so strong Harry briefly worried that something was going to crack before Hagrid stepped back from him, the large man looking like he was fighting back tears.

"Thanks..." he said, sniffling slightly as he looked at Harry. "Yer don'... I mean, all those years... an' if yer read _Riddle's _account..."

"I trust _you_, Hagrid; no matter what Riddle might think of you, I know what you're like and what you won't do," Harry replied, relieved that he could at least be honest about that as he looked at his and Hermione's first wizarding friend.

"So..." he said, looking awkwardly at Hagrid as he began to move the conversation on to the real reason for his visit, "if you didn't do it... how was Riddle able to claim that you were responsible?"

"Well... he jus'... he made a better impression, I s'pose," Hagrid said, looking awkwardly around his hut for a moment before he sighed in frustration. "Bloody golden boy back then, far as the teachers were concerned; talented, but he never really got 'long with anybody else, and anyone who actually spent time with him acted like he was some big cult guy rather than their frien'..."

"Ah," Harry said, nodding in understanding and sympathy at Hagrid; Hagrid might not have provided much detail about his time as a student, but he doubted that the future gamekeeper had been a particularly skilled wizard, and his taste in pets probably made it worse. "So... he made a good impression on the teachers, but he didn't spend much social time with other students?"

"Not really," Hagrid replied, shaking his head. "S'pose he did some stuff in his spare time, but never worked out what; didn' really move in the same circles."

"And... what about that... thing he found you with?" Harry asked, recalling the creature that had run away from Hagrid when Riddle attacked him. "I don't think it did anything

"Aragog?" Hagrid said, shaking his head firmly at Harry. "Nah, Aragog didn' hurt anyone; got him as an egg an' kept him in a box after he hatched before I had to hide him out in the forest when he got too big, even managed ter find a mate for him later..."

"Uh..." Harry began, wishing there was a better way to phrase what he was about to ask. "Did... Aragog... give any impression that he knew what _was _attacking the students?"

"Mentioned that it was somethin' that scared him an' all spiders, but that was it; couldn' get any more out of him than tha', an' didn' want ter push my luck after Riddle sold me out," Hagrid said grimly. "He escaped when Riddle was tryin' ter catch us, an' I let him live in the forest afterwards; drop in on him when I can, make sure he an' the kids are alright-"

"_Kids_?" Harry repeated, his eyes widening at the implications. "He's got _kids_?"

"They all stay in the forest, I promise; Aragog prefers it there, really," Hagrid said, shaking his head and smiling reassuringly at Harry. "Don' worry; he won' hurt anyone."

"Uh... sure," Harry said, nodding briefly at Hagrid- knowing that his friend wouldn't do anything deliberately dangerous didn't change the possibility that Aragog's family might only not kill Hagrid on their father's orders rather than any natural desires of their own- before he continued his own questioning. "So... Riddle's diary mentioned a girl that was killed shortly before he claimed that you were the person responsible; did you...?"

"Know 'er?" Hagrid finished for Harry, shaking his head sadly. "Not really; she was in Ravenclaw, 'bout the same year as me, but didn' tend to hang out wi' others much; a few people teased her an' it was enough to make her reluctan' ter talk ter anyone else. Heard it took anyone hours ter notice that she was even missin' after she was killed; some other girl went lookin' fer her an' found the body in a bathroom somewhere."

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly feeling even more depressed at this news.

The obvious pain on Hagrid's face at the memory was bad enough, but the thought of someone being so ignored that it took people ages to know that she was _dead_...

Somehow, the fact that nobody had cared enough to notice that she wasn't there just made it all worse; the thought that some girl had died in a bathroom and nobody had noticed for hours reminded Harry of his vague memories of the Dursleys, cowering in his cupboard, wishing that someone would come and take him away from everything facing him...

Learning how to use magic might be the second-most incredible thing that had happened to Harry since the Grangers adopted him- he would have probably always been able to come to Hogwarts, but the odds of him finding a family like the Grangers had to have been low-, but moments like that always left him reflecting on how, in some ways, this world wasn't that much better than the muggle world he and Hermione had started to leave behind them as they continued their magical education.

Still... even if Hogwarts wasn't as safe as it could be at times, Harry couldn't complain about the opportunity to make a difference; he just wished that he didn't _have_ to make a difference because of something that had been totally outside his control from the beginning...


	13. The Two Thefts

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: A bit uncertain about some parts of this chapter, but I think the overall plan works (It's funny how some things were spaced out in the books when you look at them again; you'd think that the teachers would have the second years pick new subjects after the second Quidditch game, among other things...)

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

"OK," Harry said, as he, Ron and Hermione sat around a table in the library at lunchtime the following Monday, staring grimly at each other as they thought over the deductions they had tried to carry out since gathering their last pieces of evidence; Harry had been occupied with quidditch practice after getting back from Hagrid's hut, Wood requesting his presence for most of the weekend, which had left Ron and Hermione to try and help him work on whatever homework he had left- albeit reluctantly in Ron's case- so that it was finished in time, limiting their earlier opportunities to find somewhere for them to discuss their discoveries without anyone noticing them. "We know what we're looking for, and we know how long it's been here; we just don't know where it is, how to get there, or who's been letting it out on the last two occasions, and the only clue we've got that we didn't have before is the fact that the last victim was found in a bathroom..."

"Not a lot, in other words," Ron said, groaning in frustration. "Why can't things be _easy _for once...?"

"Actually," Hermione said, looking slightly uncertainly at her brother, "I _did _have a thought about that; I was just... well..."

"You wanted to research it?" Harry asked with a slight smile; in a world where this monster could attack them, it was nice to know that some things remained constant.

"I just had an issue or two that I wanted clarification on before I told you about them in case I was wrong," Hermione said, shrugging apologetically.

"Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head as he looked at his sister, "how often do I have to tell you, I have Kirk's Spock-faith in you."

"Huh?" Ron asked, looking at Harry in confusion.

"Ron," Hermione said, looking at their friend in exasperation, "tell your father that his research into muggles should include research into their popular culture; that's not the first quote you've missed, even if this one was... slightly difficult to place."

"Hey, I liked what that line said about their relationship; it's not my fault I remember some of the fine details," Harry said, looking at Hermione with a slightly teasing sulk before he looked back at Ron. "My _point _is that Hermione's got this need to over-examine things more than she needs to, regardless of the fact that I'd take her guesses over most people's hard facts; she might want to back up her hunches, but I'll take them over anything anyone else showed me most days of the week, no matter what evidence they have to support them."

"Ah," Ron said, in slightly confused understanding as Harry turned back to Hermione.

"So, what's this theory?" he asked casually.

"Well... Hagrid said that the girl was found in a bathroom," Hermione explained. "And... look, we already know that one of the modern victims was found _outside_ a bathroom..."

"Who- oh, Mrs Norris, right?" Ron said.

"Exactly," Hermione said, nodding thankfully at Ron before she turned back to Harry. "Anyway, two things occurred to me; firstly, what if the reason for two attacks taking place near a bathroom was because they had some kind of connection to the creature beyond sheer chance, and secondly, what if the girl who was murdered in the bathroom never actually _left _the bathroom?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

It was such a simple deduction that he was amazed he hadn't thought of it earlier.

"Moaning Myrtle?" he said, looking at his sister with a smile. "You think _she _was the victim?"

"Well... it _does _make sense," Ron said, nodding thoughtfully as he processed his friends' train of thought. "I mean, why else would a ghost spend a lot of time in a toilet unless it had some kind of significance to them?"

"And it being the place where she died certainly fits most ghost-related stereotypes," Harry said, nodding in agreement at Ron before he looked back at Hermione. "It gives us something to think about, anyway; too bad we can't do anything right now..."

"What?" Hermione said, looking sharply at him. "We have a witness _and _we have evidence-!"

"We have a _possible _witness and a _theory_ that fits the facts we've discovered so far; nothing we've found couldn't be explained away as coincidence if we tried to take this to official investigators, and I think that getting past Filch to get another chance to talk with her given the way things have been recently is unlikely at best," Harry countered, looking pointedly at his sister; she might be the more rounded intellectual, but she _really _needed to think about things more practically at times. "Look, we've got a Quidditch game coming up in the next couple of weeks, to say nothing of our subjects; I get that this takes priority in the long term, but we don't have enough information to plan our next move, and the Heir doesn't seem to have been doing anything since that attack on Justin and Nick a few months ago, so we can probably afford to wait for a bit. Just let me get through this game, and then I should be able to devote more time to this investigation; Wood alone would draw too much attention to my absence, and if the Heir _has _taken 'time out', we don't want to do anything that would give the impression we think we're on to them."

"Point..." Hermione said, nodding in frustrated resignation before she smiled slightly. "Anyway, I can still do a bit of additional research here; it's not like me spending time in the library is going to stand out."

"Just be careful and be sure to keep something reflective on you," Harry said, looking solemnly at his friends. "And... try to let other people know that, without making it too obvious that _we _know what's responsible for all this; maybe we could try and get in touch with whoever set up that old protective amulet trade and get them to start selling something again?"

"Something reflective?" Hermione suggested with a slight smile.

"It's the best chance we've got without revealing anything we don't want anyone else to know," Harry said, nodding at his sister.

"Besides," Ron added hopefully, "the Mandrakes seem to be doing fairly well, from what Professor Sprout said; maybe they'll be ready to de-Petrify everybody soon and we won't have to worry about this because Colin, Nick or Justin can tell us who did it instead?"

Even if Harry and Hermione knew that the Mandrakes would need a few more months before they were ready to do anything like that, they weren't willing to deny Ron that small hope; maybe if they just kept their fingers crossed, the best-case scenario would happen anyway?

* * *

The next few days were relatively busy for all three of them. With Harry having to focus on his quidditch training as the next match drew closer, Hermione spent what spare time she could trying to figure out anything new about the Chamber based on the information they already possessed, leaving Ron to do what he could with his conventional homework. With Ron doing most of the work, he was happy to provide Harry and Hermione with his answers so that they could provide input on his work and get some ideas down for their own answers; Ron might not be as capable as they were, but he did all right when he applied himself to the task at hand, and Harry and Hermione were always able to use what research he'd done to assist them in putting their own homework together.

Hermione was fairly sure that the basilisk was using the pipes to get around the school based on some notes she'd found about wizarding architecture being potentially 'dimensionally transcendental' (The 'Doctor Who' term was easier to remember than the name that the wizards had given it which Harry could barely pronounce anyway), which at least accounted for why Harry had been hearing the basilisk in the corridors without seeing it, but that still left them with only the toilets as a possible clue to the Chamber's entrance and no idea what they'd do if that turned out to be a dead end.

As well as the brief re-ignition of the protective amulet trade thanks to Ron and the twins dropping the appropriate words in the right ears to pass the message along, further demands on their time were made when they had to choose the subjects that they'd take going into their third year. While Hermione was initially in favour of taking everything, Harry was quick to stop her from signing up for the Muggle Studies course as it would have been too easy for her, and a casual discussion on the topic was enough to dissuade them from going for Divination as neither of them felt that inclined to explore the future; they'd read enough stories about self-fulfilling prophecies- whether through time-travel or magical visions- to know that seeing it could often cause what you were trying to stop. Hermione had expressed an interest in Arithmancy, but Harry's own lack of confidence with numbers had been enough to dissuade him from exploring that particular subject even if Hermione had still signed up for it, although Ancient Runes had been mutually agreed to be rather interesting. Care of Magical Creatures had been a subject of some debate, but eventually the two of them had decided to go for it, concluding that the subject might be an interesting change of pace. Ron, although agreeing with the decision to sign up for Care of Magical Creatures, had decided to sign up for Divination mainly because none of the others really grabbed his attention or had sounded far too complicated; he was learning enough about muggles from his father and friends to satisfy him, Arthimancy was too complicated for his taste, and he just didn't think that any of his future career plans would benefit from him selecting Ancient Runes as an option.

Personally, Harry just hoped that whoever was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts next year- assuming that 'jinx' he'd heard rumours about was still the case; the fact that Quirrell had apparently only taught the class last year didn't exactly mean that there was a definite pattern- was competent enough to make up for Lockhart's continued idiocy; once you ignored the parts about his favourite colour or ideal birthday present, the man's books were a better source of information than the man himself, as far as Harry could tell.

If the Chamber crisis hadn't been more of an obvious threat, Harry might have decided to investigate how a man who had written these books could be such an incompetent wizard- even if he had his doubts about Lockhart having done everything that was recounted in his books, he still had to have gathered the information in the first place-, but this wasn't the time to worry about minor things like that in the face of the current problems facing them.

With everything else bothering them at this point, Quidditch sessions were almost a relief; Harry might not be able to completely relax during practise sessions, but at least he didn't have to stress about his long-term future when his immediate goal was simply to worry about where the snitch was located. With the weather becoming drier as time went on, he began to enjoy the time he spent flying once again, leaving him with a welcome opportunity to get away from it all.

Unfortunately, his good mood was ruined by an event that took place the evening before Saturday's match. As he was heading up to the dormitory to drop off his broomstick after a particularly satisfying practise, he found Neville at the top of the stairs, looking frantically at him.

"Harry," he said, shaking almost as much as he did in Potions classes, "I don't know who did it- I just found-"

As Neville opened the door to the dorm, Harry quickly realised what the other boy meant; someone had apparently completely ransacked Harry's trunk, throwing the contents everywhere, ripping his conventional cloak- fortunately the invisibility cloak was with Hermione at the moment-, pulling the bedclothes off his bed, and scattering the contents of the drawers of his bedside cabinet over the mattress.

"Bloody Hell..." Dean Thomas said, prompting Harry to glance back as Ron, Dean and Seamus walked into the room. "What _happened_, Harry?"

"No idea..." Harry muttered, quickly scanning through his scattered property to see if anything was missing, his blood running cold as he realised what item was missing. Shooting a stern glance at Ron to prompt his friend to follow him without saying anything, Harry hurried down the stairs, quickly spotting Hermione sitting in a corner of the common-room reading a book about Ancient Runes.

"What-?" she began, looking curiously up at Harry as he and Ron hurried over to join her.

"Riddle's diary's gone," Harry said, looking grimly between his friend and his sister. "Someone just ransacked my stuff and it's the only thing missing; I think we know what _that _means."

"Hold on; a _Gryffindor _stole it?" Hermione said, looking incredulously at her brother. "But-!"

"I _know _it's unlikely, but who else knows our password?" Harry said, briefly glancing up at the passage leading to his dorm before he looked back at his friends. "The only thing that doesn't make sense is how anyone would find it; nobody else apart from the three of us even knew that I _had _that diary..."

"Well, at least working out why they did it now was simple enough," Hermione said, indicating the nearest window with a slight shrug, Harry and Ron glancing out at the brilliantly-illuminated grounds spread out before them. "This is the best weather we've had for ages; almost everyone would have been outside to relax after the stress of picking next year's subjects or whatever other work we've had lately, which would make it the perfect opportunity to sneak up there without anyone noticing."

"Point," Harry said, smiling briefly at his sister before he slumped back into his seat with a groan. "Too bad that doesn't help us work out who did it; it's not like we can be expected to ask around the entire house to find out who wasn't with anyone for the right amount of time..."

"Add in the fact that we can't exactly report it stolen because it would raise too many questions about how we got something like that in the first place, and... well, 'complicated' isn't exactly the right word," Hermione added, shaking her head as she shared an exasperated glance with her friends. "There are definitely times when working in secret like this can be annoying."

"But it's still fun, right?" Ron said, smiling slightly over at Hermione. "I mean, how many students can say they have this kind of fun at school?"

In a strange way, Harry had to agree with Ron's point; no matter how difficult things might be at Hogwarts, you couldn't ever complain that things were boring.

Right now, however, he'd gladly trade away the excitement for some answers; who, or what, were they actually _dealing _with here...?

* * *

The next morning, Harry tried to take his mind off the mystery of the diary and focus his mind back on the game that he was about to play. The weather at least retained the high quality of the previous day, with brilliant sunshine and a calm breeze, but a part of Harry's mind was still focused on analysing the fellow students around him, wondering which of them now possessed the mysterious diary even as the rest of him knew that speculation like that was pointless.

Whoever had stolen that diary knew what they were after and knew how to access the tower, but otherwise they had nothing to go on, particularly since the only people who knew about the diary were the three of them; even the person who'd disposed of it originally couldn't know that it had ended up in their possession afterwards...

As he headed for the pitch, Harry wondered if he should feel relieved or frustrated at the lack of pain from his scar; at least the lack of discomfort suggested that whoever was responsible for this whole mess wasn't the same as the person who'd been responsible for everything going wrong last year, but that didn't exactly leave them with a long list of suspects. Even as he headed down to the changing rooms and pulled on his scarlet robes, he couldn't take his mind off this whole situation, and even the applause that they were met with after getting onto the field couldn't totally cheer him up. Harry was just about to mount his broom when Professor McGonagall came half-marching, half-running across the pitch, raising her wand to her throat as she spoke.

"This match is cancelled," she said, her voice echoing around the stadium even as Wood hurried over to her and tried to protest. "All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

As the crowd began to split up and the teams went their separate ways, Harry quickly handed his Nimbus over to Fred and George- they might be pranksters, but he knew that he could trust them to take it back to the house for safe keeping- and ran over to Ron and Hermione as stealthily as he could, the two of them already standing at one edge of the pitch.

"You brought it, right?" he asked, looking urgently at his friends.

"Of course," Hermione said, reaching into her bag and pulling the silver form of the invisibility cloak that she and Harry essentially shared. Ever since Harry's impulsive visit to Hagrid, he and Hermione had taken care to ensure that at least one of them always brought the invisibility cloak out with them whenever they had to go anywhere, depending on which one of them could get away with carrying something of sufficient size to conceal the cloak in question; they might have to be careful, but it was worth it in case of situations like this.

"Come on," Harry said, indicating the stream of students heading into the castle as the three of them retreated to a position behind one of the stands. "Just wait here for a moment, and then we're off."

As they threw the cloak over themselves, they waited for a couple of moments to let more of the students into the castle, and then hurried in after them, the corridor now empty enough that the three invisible people could walk through the building without risking anyone bumping into or tripping over something that they couldn't see.

"Where to?" Ron asked.

"The staff room," Harry said firmly. "Professor McGonagall will want to let the rest of the teachers know what's wrong first; where else would they go?"

"Shouldn't we tell-?" Hermione began.

"Lack of proof, remember?" Harry pointed out to her. "Without the diary, we've just got a bunch of theories; let's just hear what's happened and _then _we'll decide what to do next."

After a few minutes of hurried walking, they finally found themselves outside the staff room, currently deserted with the door slightly ajar. Quickly nipping inside the room, the three of them waited silently in the corner until the teachers began to filter into the room, their expressions varying between scared and confused (Lockhart was noticeably absent, Harry reflected, but quickly concluded that he didn't care about that).

"It has happened," Professor Dumbledore said, looking solemnly at the teachers assembled around him. "A student has been taken by the monster, right into the Chamber itself."

Harry automatically clapped a hand over Hermione's mouth to stop her gasp of shock at this news; giving away their presence right now wouldn't help anything.

"How can you be sure?" Snape asked, maintaining a tight grip on his chair as he looked at the headmaster.

"The Heir of Slytherin has left another message underneath the original," Dumbledore replied, his expression still grim as he looked around the room. "'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever'."

"Who is it?" Madam Hooch asked, sinking into a chair as Professor Flitwick burst into tears. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," Dumbledore said.

Harry and Hermione were suddenly simultaneously cursing and grateful for the fact that Ron was the tallest of the three of them; since it meant that he tended to be in the middle when all three of them were under the cloak, it made it easier for them to catch him when he began to fall towards the floor.

_Ginny_...

His mind racing, Harry tried to recall when he had last seen Ginny, but was ashamed to admit to himself that he couldn't even recall if she'd been present at breakfast; it had all been so chaotic that it had been hard to keep track of everybody, and he'd had so much on his mind...

_The Chamber_.

As the teachers talked about contacting the aurors and making arrangements to try and search the school, Harry hauled Ron back to his feet and jerked his head towards the still-partly-open door, leaving Ron and Hermione to quickly follow him as he left the staffroom as quietly as possible.

"Come on," he said, looking resolutely at his friends. "Let's go-"

"_Go_?" Ron repeated, looking incredulously at him. "Harry, my _sister_-"

"If the Heir wanted her dead, she'd probably _be _dead and someone would have found the body already, Ron; nobody would bother taking someone into a secret chamber in a place like this unless there was something they wanted to get out of it," Harry said, walking as quickly as possible while trying to avoid tripping over the cloak and giving their presence away to anyone who might be passing; if he focused on those issues, he could stop himself thinking about the fact that Ginny Weasley, who he'd kept meaning to spend time with but always had something more 'important' come up, was currently being held prisoner in the Chamber of Secrets by someone who controlled one of the most dangerous creatures to ever exist. "We don't know how long it'll be until the aurors get here and we don't have any evidence that could convince them to listen to us when they do; we've got one lead, so we need to try and follow it if there's any chance that... we'll pull this off."

He didn't want to think about the consequences of failure; the thought that he could have maybe noticed that Ginny was missing earlier if he'd just paid more _attention _to her...

God, what was _wrong _with him? He'd spent his entire life pre-Hermione being the outsider, and he went and did it to someone who'd done nothing but be slightly embarrassed and awkward around him because he was _busy_?

Even if it was only to make up for his past mistakes, he _had _to save Ginny...

* * *

AN 2: Well, hope you liked that; coming up, my own version of the Chamber confrontation, with a few additional forces...


	14. Showdown in the Chamber

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: A couple of movie elements here, but I think they're appropriate; hope you like the result

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

As they walked into the girl's bathroom, Harry was relieved to see Myrtle sitting on one of the end toilets as they shrugged off the cloak, Hermione putting it back into her bag as the ghost looked up; at least she wasn't having another sobbing fit.

"Oh, it's you," she said, in her usual tone of bleak resignation. "What do you want this time?"

"Well... if you don't mind telling us, we were wondering how you died," Harry asked, hoping that she would appreciate a direct approach; Nearly Headless Nick might not like discussing his death if he had the chance not to, but that didn't mean that every ghost would feel the same.

"Oooh, it was dreadful," Myrtle said, her voice clearly relishing the opportunity to discuss such a topic; it was as though it was the most flattering question anyone had ever asked her. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then…" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, "I _died_."

"How?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Myrtle said, her tone hushed as though conveying a great secret. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big yellow eyes; my whole body sort of seized up, and then I was drifting away..." She paused and looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses..."

"Where did you see the eyes?" Hermione asked.

"Somewhere there," Myrtle said, pointing vaguely at the sink in front of her toilet. Walking over to examine it, Harry's eyes quickly fell on a tiny snake scratched into the side of one of the copper taps; it wasn't obvious unless you were looking for something, and even then it could probably be mistaken as minor vandalism...

"Stand back," he said, glancing over at his friend and his sister before he turned to address the tap, squinting his eyes and moving his head slightly so that the candlelight created _just _the right impression of movement...

"_Open up_," he said, the slight start from Hermione just out of the corner of his eye making it clear that he'd successfully spoken in Parseltongue even before the tap glowed a brilliant white and the sink sank down out of sight, leaving a large pipe-like hole large enough for them to go down.

"I'm not sure if that's cool or weird," Ron said, looking over at his friends after they'd spent a moment taking in what had just happened. "I mean, who puts the entrance to their secret chamber and the ancient monster within it in a toilet?"

"Maybe it was Slytherin's private bathroom or something like that back in the old days; it's not like it's that important," Harry said, shrugging slightly as he turned his attention back to the pipe before them. "Right now, we've got to get down there-"

"Uh... we do?" Hermione asked, holding up her hands defensively as Ron and Harry turned to glare at her. "I'm not saying I don't want to help, I just meant that this could be a situation where a teacher would be-"

"We don't know where they'll be now if they're looking around the castle to round up all 'free-roaming' students, we don't have time to go back and get help even if anyone would believe us before coming here, and the longer we stay here the less chance there is that we'll..." Harry began, before he stopped as the implication of what he was about to say virtually choked him.

The thought of Ginny being _dead_... after all his intentions to spend with her kept on getting interrupted by his attempts to investigate this bloody mess...

"The point is," he said, shaking his head as he looked firmly back at his sister and his friend, "we know where she is _now_, but we don't know how long she's been there or what's happening to her; if we move quickly, we might have a chance..."

He paused for a moment as he looked down the pipe in front of him once again, swallowing slightly at the black depth of it, before he looked back at Ron and Hermione. "If you don't want to come, I'll understand-"

"Are you _mental_?" Ron asked, glaring in frustration at Harry. "I'm _not _leaving my sister down there!"

"And if you think I'd ever let you go into danger alone when I could go with you, you're not _nearly_ as intelligent as I think you are, Harry Potter," Hermione said, folding her arms and staring intently at him (Harry knew that she was serious; even if it was part of his current name, she only ever used his original surname when she was _really _annoyed with him).

"Uh... thanks," Harry said, smiling at his sister's affirmation of her faith in him before he turned to address the ghost still floating alongside them, his gaze narrowing as he glared pointedly at Myrtle to ensure that she understood his next words. "Myrtle, if we're not out in a couple of hours, go and find one of the teachers and tell them where we are and that we think we're dealing with a basilisk; if you don't, I will come back to personally ensure that your afterlife is whatever kind of Hell I can create, clear?"

"Of... of course," Myrtle said, her usual emotional state of constant depression apparently forgotten in the face of the sheer intensity of Harry's stare.

"Good," Harry said, before he turned back to the pipe, took a deep breath, and jumped in. He immediately found himself going down what felt like an endless, slimy, dark slide, smaller pipes just visible around him as he hurtled downwards at an increasingly steep rate; he was fairly sure that he was already far further underground than he could ever have reached if he simply stayed in the school dungeons or other public parts of the building...

After a few moments of descent through what had to be the most disgusting 'ride' he had ever experienced, Harry finally shot out of the pipe to land on the damp floor of a large stone tunnel, quickly rolling out of the way as Hermione and Ron emerged from the pipe shortly after him.

"Well," Hermione said, looking over at Harry with a slight smile, "that was... exhilarating."

"Quite," Harry said, glancing back up the pipe- he wasn't sure how they'd get back out after this was over, but he'd worry about that later- before he turned around and studied the dark tunnel before them. "Well, come on, then; _Lumos_!"

His illuminated wand held up in front of him, Harry began to walk along the corridor, Ron and Hermione close behind him as they advanced along the dark passage with slimy walls.

"Remember, close your eyes at the first sign of movement and start firing anything that you can think of," Hermione said, looking anxiously over at the two boys as they walked.

"Close eyes if something moves; got it," Ron said, nodding even as he swallowed anxiously at that fresh reminder of what they were potentially dealing with. As they continued to walk, the wand's light still only illuminated a short distance ahead of them, leaving their shadows to cast monstrous impressions on the slimy walls as they moved along the wet floor. A sudden crunch as Ron stepped on something hard brought them to a halt, but it was quickly identified as nothing but a rat's skull, even if the anxious look Harry exchanged with Hermione was enough to confirm that she didn't want to think about the implications of that discovery for Ginny any more than he did.

"Harry..." Ron said, his voice hoarse as he grabbed Harry's shoulder after they walked around a bend in the tunnel. "There's... there's something there..."

Halting in their progress, Harry raised his wand to examine the huge, curved outline lying on the ground in front of them, momentarily tensing in preparation for any sign of movement before he realised that what was before them was far too still and flat to be the basilisk itself.

"Blimey..." Ron said, his eyes widening in horror as they took in the vivid green snakeskin. "Whatever shed this would have to be thirty feet long... _at least_."

"Come on," Harry said, trying not to think about how long the snake in question would have to be now, depending on how long it had been since it shed this skin.

As they continued along the increasingly-turning tunnel, the three of them gathered closer together as they kept their wands raised, anxiously prepared for whatever was about to happen even if there was relatively little that they could do. Finally, after a series of nerve-tingling walks, they crept around another bend and found themselves staring at a solid wall with two entwined emerald-eyed serpents carved on it.

"Uh..." Ron said, swallowing anxiously as he looked over at his friends. "Is it too late to look for help?"

"We don't have time," Harry said, swallowing as he stepped forward to stare at the emerald-eyed snakes. "_Open_."

With that command, the serpents parted as the wall cracked open, with the snakes smoothly moving out of sight, leaving the three students to tentatively enter the chamber.

Once inside the chamber, Harry quickly confirmed his earlier thoughts on Slytherin; even for a Parselmouth, this guy was _seriously _fixated on snakes. Serpents were winding around the stone pillars that reached up as far as the eye could see, the walls were illuminated with a soft greenish glow that only added to the snake-like impression the current environment, their hollow eyes seemingly staring at him, and a statue stood at the end of the Chamber, depicting an ancient wizard with a long beard and a monkeyish face-

Ron let out a sudden sob and ran towards the statue when a small figure came into view lying at the bottom, close to the statue's feet, red hair fanning out around it as it lay still.

"_Ginny_!" Harry yelled, caution forgotten as he and Hermione joined Ron in hurrying forward to crouch down around the smaller girl, her skin practically white against her dark uniform even as her closed eyes made it clear that she hadn't been petrified, a black leather-bound book tucked under one arm.

"Wh-what's wrong...?" Ron began, looking at Hermione as she quickly attempted a couple of charms over the younger girl, only to be met with nothing but frustrated shakes of the head.

"I don't know..." Hermione said, sighing in frustration. "We're just too limited down here and I don't know enough healing charms; we have to get her back to the castle..."

"She won't wake," a voice suddenly said from off to the side.

Quickly getting to their feet, Harry, Ron and Hermione aimed their wands at the source of the voice as a tall, dark-haired young man walked out of the shadows, slightly blurred around the edges, but otherwise instantly familiar to Harry.

"Tom Riddle?" he said, looking at the figure in confusion.

"_Tom Riddle_?" Hermione repeated, looking incredulously at Harry. "As in, that student who left some strange diary that told you that Hagrid opened the Chamber?"

"You told them that?" Riddle said, his initial apparent confidence faltering at this news.

"I didn't believe that Hagrid was responsible, but it did help us learn a few essential details," Harry said, looking grimly at Riddle; he didn't know what was going on here, but there was enough confusion going around right now without them trying to lie about how much they knew or didn't know. "And what do you mean, she won't wake? She's not-"

"She's still alive," Riddle said, his tone of voice worryingly calm for the current situation. "But only just."

"Uh... hold on, I thought you said that Tom Riddle was a student when Hagrid was a kid?" Ron said, looking in confusion between his friend and the new arrival. "How can he be here now, looking like... well, _that_? What is he? A ghost?"

"Actually, I'm a memory," Riddle said, looking slightly scathingly at Ron. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

"What?" Hermione said, looking at him in confusion, even as her gaze shifted to the diary that was clutched in Ginny's hand; they'd been so focused on her condition that they almost hadn't paid attention to what she was holding.

"Hold on a minute..." Harry said, his eyes narrowing as his gaze shifted from the diary to Riddle. "You've been _in _the diary for fifty years... you were there when the Chamber was opened last time... you don't seem to care about the fact that we're in the Chamber of Secrets with a legendary monster inside it... you were the one who told everyone that Hagrid opened it, even though he'd _never _do something like that..."

His eyes widened in horrified revelation. "_You _opened it?"

"What?" Ron said, looking sharply at Harry.

"It makes sense," Harry said, still staring coldly at Riddle as he tightened his grip on his wand. "Hagrid couldn't have done it himself- he's definitely _not _the Heir of Slytherin, for one thing-, but if he was anything like he is now back then, he would have had an interest in magical creatures that would have made it difficult for anyone to really accept the idea that he was innocent if someone pointed the finger at him; get a large group of people panicky enough and they'll go along with anyone who can give them a solution, even if it doesn't make _total _sense..."

"Quite," Riddle said, smiling in a mocking manner at Harry; evidently, now that Harry had seen through his deception, he saw no point in being as polite as he had been earlier. "And, given my own academic record, it was really far easier for Dippet to accept that Hagrid was responsible when faced with a choice between me or him on who to believe; as though Hagrid would have had the brains, or the power, to open the Chamber of Secrets!"

"But Dumbledore saw through you, didn't he?" Harry said, recalling the pointed stare that Dumbledore had given Riddle in the memory he'd seen earlier.

"He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle said, shrugging dismissively at the recollection, before he smiled as he looked down at Ginny. "Of course, I had taken certain precautions to ensure that I would be able to complete my work later; that was where the diary came in."

"The diary?" Hermione repeated, looking at Riddle in confusion despite her obvious fear. "What does a diary have to do with anything?"

"Oh, a great deal, Miss _Granger_," Riddle said, practically spitting out Hermione's surname as he glared at her before he turned his attention back to Harry; Harry was getting the uncomfortable impression that Riddle was more interested in him than the other two. "Ginny has been writing in it for the last year, using it to vent all of her pitiful little woes and secrets to an invisible friend; how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would _ever_ like her..."

Harry had to grab hold of Ron's arm to stop him lunging for Riddle; if they were going to have any chance of working out what had happened to Ginny, they had to keep Riddle talking long enough to trick him into giving up something useful...

"It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," Riddle continued, evidently unaware or unconcerned about the obvious anger on Ron's face and the increasingly-cold hatred that Harry knew was on his face. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me. _No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket__..._"

"Just get to the point," Harry said, staring directly at Riddle as the older student began to chuckle, trying to maintain control; yelling at Riddle about something that he was clearly proud of doing wouldn't help them. "So you basically spied on her; how does that explain this?"

"Oh, writing in my diary was a two-way-street," Riddle said, smiling in a manner that left Harry thinking of a vampire about to go for your neck. "As Ginny poured out her soul to me, I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into _her_..."

"Hold on..." Harry said, his eyes widening in horror as he looked back at Ginny, the simple-looking leather book he'd seen earlier taking on a horrifying new purpose. "You mean-?"

"Yes," Riddle said, smirking at Harry. "It was Ginny Weasley who opened the Chamber-"

"_You _opened it," Ron spat, glaring at Riddle with clenched fists. "_You _did all that stuff, and Ginny was just... just the person who accidentally gave you the chance to get to the sodding door; she'd _never _have helped you do this if she'd had a choice!"

"Well, she didn't know what she was doing at first, I admit," Riddle said, smiling as though what he was discussing was just a good joke rather than something that affected a living person. "It was very amusing, seeing what she made of my initial brief periods of control while I was dealing with the roosters and writing threatening messages. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries; they were really far more interesting… _'Dear Tom, I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and 1 don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, l can't remember what 1 did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'_"

"You..." Harry practically growled, staring in contempt at Riddle; only the need for more information stopped him attacking the older boy.

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," Riddle said, clearly unconcerned about Harry's glare. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet..."

"And why did you want to meet my brother?" Hermione asked, glaring at him.

"Your broth- oh, yes, you're the sister, aren't you?" Riddle said, looking at her with a dismissive snort before he looked back at Harry. "Honestly, why you like having such a pathetic family, I _really _don't know..."

"I'm not interested in your opinion of my family history, you prat," Harry said, staring resolutely at him. "What about me drew your attention? Was that why you tried to tell me that Hagrid was responsible; because you wanted to find out more about me?"

"It was the most direct route to take," Riddle said, shrugging slightly. "Of course, then you wouldn't come back to write in me again after you didn't believe me about Hagrid-"

"He told me that you were always one of the students that the teachers like but the other kids didn't really care about," Harry said, staring firmly at their enemy, his mind racing as he tried to think of some way out of this mess; the diary was a possible target, but what could they use against it without Riddle stopping them?

"Well, anyway," Riddle said, waving a dismissive hand, clearly not considering Harry's comment worth responding to, "with Dumbledore keeping a close eye on me after Hagrid's expulsion, I created the diary to ensure that I would, one day, have the chance to lead another to follow in my footsteps and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work-"

"Hold on a minute; you've been active for months and all you've done is petrify two students, a cat and a ghost, and you call that continuing a 'noble work'?" Harry said, looking at Riddle with a slight smirk; if he tried to appear more confident than he was, maybe they could put Riddle off-balance or something. "I mean, what you did to Nick did scare a lot of people who wondered how you pulled that off, but it's not like you've done anything _permanent_; everyone will be awake once the Mandrakes are prepared-"

"Haven't I already told you that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me any more?" Riddle said, his voice quiet as he stared at Harry. "For many months now, my new target has been _you_... you and your fascinating history..."

He sighed. "It was one reason I was so frustrated when Ginny Weasley was the next person to write to me; when I took possession of her again- it was easy to do, given her panic that I'd spill her secrets-, it wasn't hard to find out that you were not only showing a lack of suspicion towards the oaf, but you were also still on the trail of Slytherin's heir. Considering that my original plan wasn't working, I decided that it was time to 'raise the stakes' and give you a reason to come to my territory, so I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became _very _boring... but there isn't really much life left in her; she put too much of herself into the diary, enough to let me leave its pages at last..."

"And you went to all this effort for me, huh?" Harry asked, looking at Riddle while trying to appear in control; after facing the spirit of Voldemort himself, what could Riddle do to him that Voldemort couldn't? "Why?"

"I have questions," Riddle said, smiling pleasantly at Harry. "Questions that only you can answer."

"Such as?" Harry asked (He briefly thought about pointing out that Hermione was the more intellectual of the two, but quickly repressed the urge; they needed answers more than anything right now, and if Riddle had spent enough time talking to Ginny he probably knew that anyway).

"Well," Riddle said, his tone nonchalant despite the hungry gleam in his eyes - was it Harry's imagination or was there a slightly reddish tint to his eyes?-, "how is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care about _that_?" Harry asked, staring in frustration at Riddle. "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," Riddle said, his voice suddenly softening in a wistful manner, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

Pulling a wand from his pocket- Ron's brief start was enough to confirm Harry's guess that it was Ginny's-, Riddle began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words;

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters rearranged themselves into a chilling message;

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

Ron let out a sudden terrified yelp, while Harry and Hermione were left to stare in terror and rage at the sight of the boy who'd just identified himself as the cause of the suffering that Harry and so many others had endured long before their family had known magic even existed.

"_You_?" Harry said, his eyes widening in horror as the initial shock passed, Hermione providing him with strength by her presence behind him (He would have liked to include Ron in that list, but his other friend was still trembling slightly after this latest revelation). "_You're _Lord Voldemort?"

"It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course," Riddle said (Harry doubted that Riddle had any actual _friends _back then, but this wasn't the time to worry about things like that), scathingly staring at them as thought he was judging them for making an assumption about him when they didn't even know there'd been an alternative. "You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

It was as though that statement was the cue that Harry needed to regain his ability to think; where he'd been briefly petrified at the revelation of what he was actually up against, he was now left with a cold resolve to continue his defiance of his reborn foe.

"You're not," he said simply.

"Not what?" Riddle asked.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry clarified. "You're good, I'll give you that, but given that you never even tried to take over Hogwarts when you were at your peak, I think it's safe to say that Dumbledore's better than you; wherever you are now, you'd rather live in hiding and use someone else to do your dirty work than try to do something that would result in you facing him again."

"Yeah!" Ron said, glaring at Riddle, his shock at learning the future identity of their foe pushed aside by his anger at the reminder of what their opponent had done to Ginny. "I mean, you didn't even _try _to face him now; you're just running around trying to take out a bunch of random students using someone else! You wouldn't stand a _chance _against Dumbledore in a straight fight; that's why you had to do this!"

Glaring at the group around him, Riddle opened his mouth to speak, only to halt as music suddenly filled the chamber from an unknown source. Spinning around, Riddle's eyes scanned the chamber for the source of the music even as Harry felt himself filled with a new source of strength, as though the terror of what they were up against had suddenly ceased to matter in the face of this new turn of events...

Suddenly, flame erupted at the top of the nearest pillar, fading away to reveal a brilliant red bird the size of a swan but with the build of a hawk or eagle, clutching a ragged bundle in its golden talons as it dived towards Harry, landing on his shoulder as it dropped the bundle in Hermione's arms.

"That's a phoenix," Riddle said, staring shrewdly at the bird.

"_Fawkes_?" Harry breathed, the bird's golden claws squeezing his shoulder gently as though to confirm his guess.

"And that..." Riddle said, eyeing the ragged thing that Hermione was now examining, "that's the old school Sorting Hat."

Harry had no idea how to feel about this turn of events- if he'd had to pick additional resources to use in a situation like this, a phoenix and a talking hat weren't exactly of obvious use-, but at least it was something that Riddle didn't have aside from the numerical advantage, and Harry doubted that three second-years would be dangerous enough to put the younger version of Voldemort on edge, even if Riddle hadn't started laughing at this turn of events.

"So this is what Dumbledore sends his defender; a songbird and an old hat?" Riddle said, laughing mockingly at Harry; it was as though Ron and Hermione were just something that was there rather than a serious threat. "Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

"Considering that I blew you out of your body the first time we met and didn't even know what I was doing, I'm fairly confident," Harry said, glaring firmly at Riddle (He remembered Dumbledore's explanation that his mother's sacrifice had somehow protected him, but this wasn't the time to discuss that; if nothing else, he had learned long ago from his books that you _never _give the bad guy the full truth). "What about you, _Tom_? Do you really think you're good enough to stop me now when the older you was left a miserable spirit when he tried to kill me the first time?"

"We shall see about _that_," Riddle said, a suddenly malevolent grin on his face that left Harry suddenly worried that he might have pushed their opponent too far too fast- Riddle was already looking too solid for comfort, but if they didn't act fast Ginny would probably be dead-, as he turned to face the large statue behind him, looking upwards at the large head near the top of the chamber. "_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_!"

Harry almost didn't need to look at Ron and Hermione's reactions to know that Riddle had just spoken in Parseltongue; somehow, he was starting to register the difference between that and English even if it still sounded the same to him, and that last command had _definitely _not been in English.

"Now then," Riddle said, turning to stare at Harry with a self-satisfied smirk, "let's match the power of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter, the best allies that he can find in the school of blood-traitors and mudblood-lovers, and the best weapons that Albus Dumbledore can give him."

Unable to do anything more than stare in horror, Harry, Ron and Hermione watched as Slytherin's gigantic face began to move, the mouth opening wider and wider to leave a huge black hole that something was emerging from, something long and green...

"_Close your eyes_!" Hermione practically screamed, grabbing Ron and Harry's arms and yanking them back towards the nearest wall, Harry squeezing his eyes shut as his back hit the stonework. Just as they hit the wall, he felt Fawkes flying away, but his attention was soon focused on the sound of something slithering towards them...

"_Reducto_!" he yelled, firing his wand at the source of the sound- this was definitely one of those occasions where the Grangers' advice to read ahead was a good thing-, Ron and Hermione quickly following his cue; he definitely heard the spell hit something, but it didn't sound like they'd really made any kind of impact...

"_Kill them_," Riddle hissed, the basilisk advancing further towards them before a sudden explosive hiss filled the room, followed by a bird's screech as something heavy hit Harry and threw him into the wall in a heap, Harry only briefly registering that Ron and Hermione had taken some of the impact themselves before he took a gambit and opened his eyes in a squint to see what was happening.

The massive green serpent, about as thick as an oak tree and reaching to near the ceiling of the chamber even without reaching its full height, was weaving around in the air, snapping its jaws at the barely-visible form of Fawkes as the phoenix flapped around its head. Suddenly, Fawkes dived towards the basilisk, releasing a sudden shower of dark blood. Before Harry could close his eyes, the basilisk had lowered its head, only to reveal gaping bloody wounds where its eyes had been; Fawkes had deprived the snake of its most dangerous weapon.

"It's blind!" Harry yelled, looking eagerly over at Ron and Hermione as they blindly got back to their feet. "Fawkes tore its eyes out!"

"_Brilliant_!" Ron said, grinning as he opened his eyes, only for the grin to falter as he took in the size of the monster they were up against; even with blood streaming from its eyes and spitting in obvious agony, the basilisk was clearly not going to go down easily...

"Harry, _look_!" Hermione said, pointing at the small form of the Sorting Hat lying a short distance away; glancing over at the Hat, Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to a strange silver gleam that had emerged from the bottom of the hat.

"_Leave the bird_!" Riddle hissed, the blinded serpent jerking around in confusion as Harry impulsively ran towards the hat as Ron and Hermione kept their wands trained on the blinded snake, grabbing the silver object to discover that it was a sword that was far too long to have simply been hidden in the hat from the beginning.

"Wow..." Harry whispered to himself, the darkness of the current situation forgotten in the face of every boy's instinctive awe in the presence of a sword; a brilliant silver blade, with elaborate engravings around the handle and a gleaming ruby the size of an egg at the tip of the hilt, along with a couple of smaller rubies at either end of the hand-guard.

"_Kill the boy_!" Riddle yelled, drawing Harry's focus back to the current crisis. "_Leave the bird! The boy is behind you_!"

As the basilisk advanced towards him, Harry had already turned around to raise the sword in his right hand- his wand was in his left in case he needed it, but he _knew _that this sword was what he really needed right now-, thrusting the blade upwards into the basilisk's mouth as it lunged down towards him, its jaws spread as though it was going to swallow him whole...

Even as he felt the basilisk's hot breath on his face growing ever stronger, Harry allowed himself a grim smile as he felt the sword's blade penetrate bone and flesh as it slid into the basilisk's skull, only for the smile to falter and be replaced by a scream as he felt something strike his arm just above the elbow. As the basilisk drew backwards, Harry heard something crack, shifting his gaze to the source of the pain as he registered, with only vague surprise, the unmistakeable form of a basilisk fang in his arm.

* * *

"_Harry_!" Hermione screamed, only able to stare in horror at the sight of her brother standing where the basilisk had fallen, the sword and wand slipping from his hands as he stared at the fang in his arm in what Hermione could only describe as numb shock.

Hermione's knowledge of poisons were relatively limited even with everything she'd learned at Hogwarts- Snape was naturally forbidden to show them anything too dangerous given their youth, after all-, but she didn't need to be an expert to know that what Harry had just 'received' from the basilisk was almost certainly fatal.

"Pathetic, really," Riddle said, looking mockingly at Harry as he walked around the basilisk towards where Ginny lay in the middle of the chamber, the sword and wand slipping from her brother's fingers as he clutched at his damaged arm.

"You know," Riddle said, apparently completely unconcerned about her and Ron's presence as he looked at Harry, "for a time, I did think that there might be a connection between us beyond the obvious- half-bloods raised by muggles, each possessing the gift of Parseltongue, a certain physical resemblance-, but looking at you now, I realise how foolish that was-"

"Shut _UP_!" Hermione yelled, charging towards Riddle and ramming her foot into a part of his anatomy that nobody liked to be hit in such a violent manner as he turned to look at her, grabbing Ginny's wand as he released his grip on it in instinctual agony. "_Flippendo_!"

As she fired the double-wanded spell at Riddle- knocking him back might not stop him, but until she could work out something better the important thing was to keep Riddle off-balance so he couldn't focus on attacking _them_-, Hermione briefly noted a sense of difficult in using Ginny's wand compared to her own, but that was ignored in favour of the pleasure she felt as Riddle was sent flying backwards, giving her time to turn around and crouch down beside Harry, who had already fallen to the ground alongside Ginny.

"Is... is he...?" Ron asked, looking between Harry and his sister in ever-increasing fear, clearly uncertain who he should be more worried about.

"I don't know..." Hermione said, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what they could do about this mess; she recalled something she'd read once recommending removing a poisoned limb before the damage could spread too far, but even if that would work for something as dangerous as basilisk venom, she didn't want to actually cut her brother's arm off...

She was saved from making the choice when the brilliant red-and-gold form of Fawkes suddenly flew down to land alongside Harry, the bird's eyes gleaming with tears as it tilted its head from one side to the other, allowing the tears to trickle over the bloody wound in Harry's arm. For a moment, the tears shimmered around the wound like liquid diamonds, and then they faded into the wound and vanished, leaving Harry with a hole in his sleeve but otherwise unharmed.

"What...?" Harry said, already looking a lot healthier as he sat up, looking over at Hermione in bemusement. "Hermione-"

"_You're alive_!" Hermione yelled, grabbing her brother in an enthusiastic hug; Ginny might still need help, but if Harry could survive a basilisk attack, she was certain they could deal with that. "Fawkes cried on your wound and you're _alive_-!"

"_CRUCIO_!" a voice yelled from behind her, as Hermione's whole body was suddenly consumed with agony, prompting her to release Harry as she fell backwards with a scream.

"_Nobody_," Riddle said, advancing towards Hermione with an expression of rage and loathing on his face that would have terrified Hermione even if she hadn't known who the boy would grow up to be- the fact that he had one hand over the part she'd kicked earlier didn't even give her the comfort of knowing she'd hurt him already-, "does _that_... to me!"

"Then you're going to hate this," Harry's voice said, prompting Hermione to turn her head just as her brother grabbed the leather-bound diary from the unmoving form of Ginny Weasley and rammed the basilisk fang that had previously been in his arm into the book.

As the fang penetrated the cover, Riddle screamed as a golden scar suddenly appeared across his body, as though he was a damaged statue and someone was shining a torch from inside him, black ink erupting from the diary like blood from a blow to the heart, before Riddle explored in a burst of golden light and vanished.

Despite the slight twinges in her limbs from whatever that last curse had just done to her as she sat up, Hermione had to admit that she felt pretty good; they'd saved Ron's sister, defeated a teenage 'clone' of Voldemort (There was probably some mystical term for whatever you called a memory acting for itself like that, but she'd worry about that later), and vanquished an ancient monster into the bargain.

_Oh, God_, she thought to herself, the smile fading as she thought about what had just happened. _Mum's going to _kill _us..._

So much for any hope that they would have a quieter year this year.


	15. Rewards

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

AN: Sorry about the delay- stuff kept coming up-; I hope some of the twists I came up with for the conclusion of this chapter make up for it

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

For a moment, the three of them stared at each other in silence, the dirty water of the chamber soaking into their clothes as they knelt on the ground while blood and ink covered Harry's hands, Hermione shaking slightly from the intensity of the pain she'd just experienced, until Ginny's eyes opened and she sat up, looking around the room until her eyes settled on Harry, the tattered diary in his hands and blood on his clothes.

"Ron- Hermione-" Ginny said, looking at her brother and Hermione as though she was trying to think of a way to say what she wanted to say to them, before her gaze returned to Harry and she broke into sobs. "Harry- I tried t-to t-t-tell you, but you were so- and I didn't _know_- and then I p-p-panicked- but I s-swear I d-didn't mean to- R-Riddle made me, he t-t-took me over..."

"It's OK, Ginny," Harry said, reaching over to give the younger girl a reassuring hug before he sat back and held up the now-destroyed diary, indicating the large fang hole in the cover. "We stopped him, and the basilisk's dead; it's all over now."

"'We'?" Ron said, looking over at Harry with a confused expression. "You stabbed it-"

"And you both came down here with me and kept it and Riddle occupied while I got the sword that killed it; as far as I'm concerned, we _all _did this, and the fact that I was holding the weapon at the last minute is just a coincidence," Harry said, his tone firm as he looked over at Ron before he walked around to the other side of the now-deceased basilisk, picking up his wand and the sword he'd dropped earlier, while Hermione passed Ginny back her wand with a reassuring smile.

"Come on, Ginny," she said, smiling reassuringly at the younger girl. "We've dealt with that idiot, and the diary's gone; it's over."

For a moment, Ginny just sat on the ground, looking at the three people standing around her with a trembling expression as though she wasn't sure if she was going to get hit for what had just happened, before she finally focused on the Granger siblings as Ron crouched uncertainly down beside her.

"Wh-why are y-you being s-s-so... _nice_ to me?" Ginny asked, looking in confusion at Harry and Hermione as Ron gave her an awkward one-armed hug. "W-we d-d-didn't..."

"I know we didn't spend that much time with you over the last few months- things kept coming up, although I think we can guess what was coming up on your end now-, but we're going to do what we can to change that now," Hermione said, smiling over at Ginny as she crouched down beside Ginny, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "If nothing else, in case you hadn't noticed, there's not exactly an abundance of women in the Weasley/Granger household; not only does it make sense for us to spend time together in that case, but... well, from what we've heard of you and seen of your family, I think Harry and I both agree that we'd like to get to know you better."

"Hey, I started spending time with Ron because he spent time talking with us before who I really was went public; after that, any reason for spending time together works," Harry said, shrugging slightly as he smiled reassuringly at Ginny, slipping his wand into his pocket as he sat down opposite her. "You're Ron's sister, but you've never tried to take advantage of that to spend time with me; it's an odd reason for liking you, maybe, but when I've been dropped into this with something I never tried to get, 'odd' is pretty much my life all over."

Despite the fact that her eyes were still filled with tears, Ginny gave him a trembling, uncertain smile at his last comment.

"R-really?" she asked.

"What can I say?" Harry said, shrugging slightly as he looked at her with a reassuring smile. "As Hermione said, we've liked most of the Weasleys we've met so far- Percy's a bit annoying, but he means well most of the time-, and what I've heard about you sounds like you'd be good company if you'd just let yourself relax a bit."

It was a complicated way of making his point, but Harry meant it; Ginny's only real 'problem' was that she had sometimes been too embarrassed to talk to him at times, and considering how most people just stared at his forehead every chance they got, that was a fairly tame response to his fame.

Holding out a hand to the younger girl, Harry smiled as Ginny took his hand and allowed him to help her up, Ron and Hermione scrambling to their feet themselves. A brief trill from alongside them prompted Harry to turn and look at Fawkes, who was fluttering alongside them while waving his golden tail-feathers in their direction.

"Is... is he trying to get us to grab hold?" Ron asked, looking over at his friends in confusion. "But we're too heavy for a bird-"

"Fawkes isn't exactly a normal bird," Harry said, briefly wondering about their next move before he decided to go with the offer anyway; it wasn't like they had any other ideas about how to get back up the tunnel, and he didn't want to remain stuck down here for any longer than was absolutely necessary. "Come on, let's do this; everyone take hole and..."

"Think happy thoughts?" Hermione asked, looking over at Harry with a slight smile.

"I prefer just think of home, really; bit more straightforward," Harry said, shrugging slightly as he offered the end of his robes to his sister, followed by Hermione taking Ron's hand while Ron took hold of Ginny's. Tucking the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Harry reached up and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers, followed by a sudden feeling of lightness as the bird lifted them all into the air, flying upwards through the pipe as though they weren't even there. Harry had barely begun to enjoy it when the four of them hit the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, the sink that held the pipe sliding back into place.

"You're alive," Myrtle said, looking at Harry with a slightly depressed tone to her voice.

"Is that a problem?" Hermione asked, looking pointedly at the ghost girl while Harry wiped the slime off his glasses.

"Oh, well... I'd just been thinking... if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," Myrtle said, her face turning slightly silver, as though she was doing whatever ghosts did instead of blushing.

"Was that-?" Hermione began, looking over at Harry with a teasing grin, only to fall silent at the swift warning glare Harry shot in her direction and the still-present gleam of tears in Ginny's eyes.

"Come on," Harry said, turning to follow Fawkes as the golden bird ceased to keep himself stationary and began to fly down the corridor, pulling back when he went around a corner to give them time to catch up, until they finally found themselves in front of the gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office.

"Uh... sherbet lemon?" Hermione said in a half-hopeful voice, smiling as the gargoyle stepped aside and the staircase appeared to let them up, Fawkes briefly perching on Harry's shoulder as he walked up the stairs, a comforting arm around Ginny as Ron and Hermione walked up after him, until they reached the upper door. Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door, resulting in a few moments of silence as the room's residents turned to look at the new arrivals, covered in muck and slime and- for Harry, at least- blood, until Mrs Weasley leapt to her feet and flung herself on her daughter with a scream of joy and shock, followed closely by Mr Weasley, leaving the Grangers to look at Harry and Hermione with an expression that left Harry momentarily wondering if he was going to be praised or hit.

"How...?" Alan asked, looking at his children and their friend in confusion.

"That's... a very long story," Harry said, looking over at where Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk as McGonagall took several steadying breathes while staring at them in shock.

"And one... I think... we'd all like to hear," McGonagall said, her voice weak as she looked at Harry, clearly surprised to see them (Harry tried not to think about what could have gone wrong with their recent actions; they might have reacted on impulse, but they'd managed to save Ginny, and that was what really mattered right now).

With nothing else to do, Harry walked over to Dumbledore's desk and laid the sword, the Sorting Hat, and the remnants of Riddle's diary in front of the headmaster.

"Harry," Jane said, looking uncertainly between her son and the objects now lying on the table before them. "What... what happened?"

Taking a deep breath Harry began his story starting with the information about his own experience hearing a voice in the walls, their research and theories about the relevance of the Chamber of Secrets, their revelation that his ability to hear the voice tied in to his ability to speak Parseltongue, the information they'd uncovered about the last time the Chamber had been opened- avoiding mentioning the diary or naming Hagrid as their source; he didn't want to get his friend into trouble-, his sudden theory that Moaning Myrtle had been the ghost of the Chamber's last victim and the possible clue to its entrance...

"Very well," McGonagall said, looking sternly at him as he paused for breath. "So you found out where the entrance was- breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add- but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

Despite his voice becoming hoarse, Harry continued his story, explaining about Fawkes's timely arrival and the sword he'd received from the Sorting Hat, only to falter as he realised that he was running out of other things he could talk about to avoid the central issue here; would anyone accept that Ginny hadn't been responsible for her actions in the absence of Voldemort's diary?

"What interests me most," said Dumbledore at last, a soft smile on his face, "is how Lord

Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania?"

Harry allowed himself to relax at that statement; at least Dumbledore seemed willing to accept that Ginny couldn't harbour any blame for what had happened, regardless of how it might appear at a superficial glance.

"What- _Voldemort_?" Jane said, looking indignantly over at the headmaster. "You're saying that the man who tried to kill Harry last year just... managed to... what, hypnotise this girl?"

"It was a bit more complicated than that," Harry said, looking apologetically at his mother for contradicting her as he pulled the diary out of his pocket and handed it to Dumbledore. "It was this diary; Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen, and... well, he said he was able to leave some part of himself in it."

Taking the diary from Harry, Dumbledore peered keenly at it for a few moments, turning the ink-stained book contemplatively in his hands.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen..."

"What are you talking about?" Alan asked.

"Very few people, Mr Granger, are aware of Lord Voldemort's life before he assumed that name," Dumbledore explained as he looked up at the muggle dentists and the bewildered Weasleys, the diary in his hands. "When he was a child and a student at Hogwarts, he went by the name of Tom Riddle, maintaining an impressive academic career marred only slightly by mystery and rumour, culminating in him disappearing from public life a few short years after leaving Hogwarts. What few sources remain to share the information state that he spent that time travelling around the world to explore some of the darkest mysteries and secrets of wizarding lore, to say nothing of inflicting such twisted magical transformations on himself; by the time he emerged, many years later, as Lord Voldemort, hardly anyone connected who he was now with who he had been."

"But what does this diary have to do with anything?" Jane asked in confusion, even as the slight edge on his mother's face hinted at the fear she felt at the reference to the man who had killed her son's parents.

"It w-w-was _his_!" Ginny suddenly sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year..."

"_Ginny_!" Arthur Weasley said, looking at his daughter in a flabbergasted manner. "Haven't I taught you _anything_? What have I always told you? _Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain_? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic-!"

"I d-didn't know!" Ginny said, still sobbing. "I found it in one of the books Mum got me... I just th-thought someone had left it there and forgotten about it..."

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore said, looking firmly at the Weasleys. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her, and she needs rest. There will be no punishment; older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort."

Noting the stares that he and Hermione were receiving from their parents even as Dumbledore smiled reassuring at the Weasleys, Harry had a sudden feeling that he wasn't going to be as lucky to get out of this particular mess without punishment once he returned home...

"You will find Madam Pomfrey is still awake, I am sure," Dumbledore continued, smiling reassuringly at the Weasleys. "She has been working on preparing the other ingredients for the Mandrake juice; they still require a month or so to be completed, but they are progressing well and it is reasonably certain that no lasting harm has been caused to those petrified."

As Mrs Weasley led Ginny out, Harry gave Ron a pointed nudge and indicated the door, prompting Ron to look at him in confusion for a moment before he nodded in understanding and hurried after his family- after everything she'd been through, Ginny needed her family more than anything right now-, leaving the assembled Granger family alone with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"You know, Minerva," Dumbledore said, his tone thoughtful as he looked at Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," Professor McGonagall said, heading towards the door. "I'll leave you with the Grangers, shall I?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said.

As Professor McGonagall left the room, Harry could only exchange anxious glances with his sister as the headmaster turned his attention to them.

"You do realise, I assume," Dumbledore said, as he looked solemnly at them, "that you have broken nearly a dozen school rules in the last few hours?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"And there is sufficient evidence to have you both expelled?" Dumbledore continued.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her shoulders tensing as she prepared for the bad news.

"Therefore," Dumbledore said, his expression suddenly brightening as he looked at them, "it is only fitting that you both- and Ron Weasley, of course- receive Special Awards for Services to the School, and... let me see... yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."

Harry and Hermione could only smile in relief at that news, despite the obvious surprise on their parents' faces at the news; evidently, their natural gratitude at their childrens' continued safety didn't completely replace their natural distaste for their children being in danger in the first place.

"But... really?" Harry said, looking uncertainly at Profesor Dumbledore. "I mean..."

"Your investigation has resulted in the defeat of a dangerous creature and exposed a scheme that goes beyond even what you can perceive right now," Dumbledore replied, looking solemnly at the two children. "Your actions were questionable, but I cannot question your results when faced with a challenge that many full-grown wizards would have faltered when the time came; your courage when rescuing your friend more than makes up for that..."

His voice trailed off as he looked thoughtfully at Harry. "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

"Harry?" Alan asked, looking curiously at his son; he'd been initially overwhelmed by the story, but now that the headmaster brought it up, he could see that there was something else bothering his son. "What's wrong?"

"It's..." Harry said, looking awkwardly over at Hermione for a moment- she'd heard the same thing he'd heard down there, but had she really appreciated the implications of it?-, before he turned to look at Dumbledore. "Well, when we were down there, Riddle... he said some stuff about..."

"Is this about that stuff he said about the similarities between you both?" Hermione interjected, looking at Harry with a pointed stare. "Because if it is, Harry, I'd like to point out that you're _not _a lunatic willing to commit murder to make your point; you're not even in _Slytherin_!"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with a reassuring smile before anyone else could respond to Hermione's comment. "And that is what makes you different from Voldemort, Harry; you may have some similarities to him, but it is our choices that show what we are _far _more than our abilities, and you are far from the kind of person who would do what Voldemort has done."

"Exactly," Alan said, reaching over to pat Harry reassuringly on the shoulder. "You're a bit... impetuous at times, but that doesn't mean you're a bad person."

"I just wish you and Hermione could stay out of trouble for a few _months _each school year," Jane said, looking pointedly at her son before she turned to look at Dumbledore. "You realise, of course, that I am _very _disappointed in the fact that my children ended up in danger _again_ while you were responsible for their safety."

"I assure you, Mrs Granger, the children would be perfectly safe under conventional circumstances; the opening of the Chamber of Secrets-" Dumbledore began.

"Was something that we _should _have been notified about," Alan interjected, looking firmly at the headmaster. "I can appreciate that you wanted to protect your school's reputation, but something like this-"

"It's not like it was his _fault_, Dad," Harry protested, looking urgently at his father. "The teachers all did what they could, but... well, at first it was just a bit of a mystery, and then they didn't know _what _to do about it-"

"And actually, we accelerated the diary's schedule- Ginny tried to get rid of it at one point, Harry found it, and then it tried to convince us that Hagrid was responsible for everything before Ginny took it back in a panic and gave it the chance to realise that we weren't falling for it-, so it could be argued that everything going this mad later on is _our _fault..." Hermione said, shrugging awkwardly at her parents' sceptical expressions.

"In any case," Dumbledore said, looking at the children with a slight smile, "regardless of potential blame allocation, I can satisfy one question of Harry's right now, if he would care to take a close look at the sword he has acquired during these events."

Looking curiously at the sword in his hands, Harry turned it around slightly, and his eyes widened as he took in the name on the blade in front of him.

_Godric Gryffindor_.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have removed that from the Hat," Dumbledore explained, his tone a simple, direct one that left no room for argument.

Whatever response Harry might have made was interrupted when the door opened and Professor Lockhart came bursting in, looking around the office for a moment before his gaze settled on Harry.

"Harry!" he said, grinning broadly at the adopted Granger. "Just the young man I wanted to talk to!"

"If you wish to speak with Harry, you will have to wait to do so, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said, looking solemnly at the professor. "He has just finished informing us about the harrowing ordeal he experienced down in the Chamber, along with Mr Weasley and Miss Granger; he requires some time to recuperate before he is required to share any more."

"He's… he already told you everything?" Lockhart said, his smile suddenly becoming more awkward.

"Of course he has," Alan said, looking at Lockhart curiously "Why shouldn't he?"

"No reason at all; just wanted to be sure…" Lockhart said, turning around to walk back towards the door, before he suddenly spun around, his wand in his hand and aimed at Dumbledore. "_Obliviate_!"

Harry didn't even have time to wonder what Lockhart was trying to do before Dumbledore had raised his own wand and created a large barrier of some sort that took whatever spell Lockhart had just cast and deflected it back at the caster. Lockhart immediately fell to the floor and was left staring vacantly up at the ceiling, a faint line of drool coming from his mouth.

"What the…?" Alan said, looking at Lockhart in shock for a moment before looking back at Dumbledore, trying to process the rapid exchange of spellwork that he'd just witnessed. "What just happened?"

"It would appear that suspicions about Gilderoy Lockhart were well-founded," Dumbledore said, looking grimly at the catatonic man lying before them. "What he just attempted was a memory charm, typically used to conceal knowledge of magic from muggles unfortunate enough to encounter us; he must have been hoping that he could contain knowledge of the truth about your encounter in the Chamber of Secrets long enough for him to learn what had happened and use it for himself…"

"There were suspicions about him?" Jane said, looking pointedly at Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione unable to do more than stare bemusedly at their parents and headmaster. "And you let him _teach _here?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts is a difficult subject to find a teacher for, Mrs Granger, and any suspicions about Professor Lockhart were limited only to acknowledgement of a few time-keeping anomalies in his books that could have been the result of carelessness; I had to work with what options were available to me and hope for the best," Dumbledore explained, looking apologetically at her. "I assure you, if I had any reason to believe that his presence would be dangerous to the students, I would have rejected his application; as it was, I had hoped that he would prove more useful than he apparently did, mainly out of a lack of options, but it would appear that the results were… not what I would have hoped."

"If it helps, his actual books aren't _that _bad once you ignore the irrelevant personal details he added; it's just…" Hermione began, only to shrug awkwardly when she found herself stuck for anything else to say. "Well, there's a lot of them."

"I… see," Jane said, stuck for anything else that she could say as she looked at the still form of Lockhart as it lay on the floor before turning her attention back to Dumbledore. "So… what suspicions were these?"

"Mainly involving the extent of his claimed accomplishments; as I previously mentioned, there were various anomalies about the dates in his books as some of them appeared to overlap, suggesting that he would have to have been in multiple locations at the same time to achieve them," Dumbledore explained. "A possible explanation that had occurred to some of us was that Gilderoy was writing the biographies of the people truly responsible for these events and them Obliviating them to make them forget what they had done while he took credit for it, but the logistics of such a feat seemed too complicated…"

He sighed. "In any case, it hardly matters now; Mr and Mrs Granger, if you could please assist Miss Granger in taking Gilderoy here to the hospital wing? Harry and I have a couple of things to discuss before this night's business can be closed."

Stuck for anything else to say to such a request, Alan and Jane bent down to pick up the catatonic Lockhart, one arm over each of their shoulders, and carried him towards the stairs, Hermione leading the way after a quick goodbye hug with Harry.

"You have further questions, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking inquiringly at Harry as the stairs and the Grangers vanished from view.

"Well… not much, really, just…" Harry began, looking awkwardly at the headmaster before he finally spoke. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"About Voldemort's former identity as Tom Riddle?" Dumbledore asked, allowing Harry to nod before he continued. "It was something I considered, of course- considering the followers and philosophy that Tom was gathering to him, knowledge of his own parentage could have been a crucial blow to his status-, but I eventually concluded that the risks were too great."

"There were risks?" Harry repeated.

"Even if I assumed that anyone would believe the story coming from me, when I had already made my opposition to his philosophies clear, the consequences would be unpredictable," Dumbledore explained. "Voldemort rallied many to him with promises of power and control; if he was removed as a symbol without being defeated himself, what guarantee did anyone have that those who had abandoned him would not simply seek to act of their own accord rather than allow him to lead them?"

"You mean… you were more comfortable having his followers be a single large army that you could predict than a bunch of smaller groups that you couldn't?" Harry asked, recalling a couple of stories he'd read over the summer.

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "In any case, so much of Voldemort's activities between Tom Riddle leaving school and him emerging as a public figure are kept secret that it would be comparatively simple for him to claim that he merely met Tom Riddle at some point rather than actually being him; of those who know the truth, most are so far into his inner circle that they would never defy him, and those who do not know would probably believe whatever cover story Voldemort had come up with."

"But… wouldn't his connection to Slytherin be enough to make up for his father being a muggle?" Harry asked.

"It was not something that Tom Riddle advertised while he was at school- I believe that I was the only one aware of his ability to speak Parseltongue, and that was merely because I was the teacher who first made contact with him-, and Slytherin's line had… well, let us say for now that they had fallen into disrepute and leave it at that," Dumbledore explained.

Harry might have asked further questions, but he was distracted when the stairs opened once more. The new arrival on this occasion was none other than a surprisingly dishevelled-looking Lucius Malfoy, his normally immaculate hair looking somewhat distressed and his robes slightly off-side; it didn't exactly look bad, but compared to how smartly-dressed he'd been during his last encounter with Harry there was a surprising difference.

Thoughts on Lucius Malfoy's appearance were quickly forgotten when Harry saw Dobby walking behind Draco Malfoy's father, frantically trying to clean his shoes as he walked. The house-elf's appearance answered some of Harry's previous questions about his role in events, but he knew that he would have to stay quiet about that particular detail; judging by the bandages around his fingers, Dobby was already apparently punishing himself enough on his own without giving the Malfoys reasons to order him to do more if they learned what he had been trying to do.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore," Lucius said, looking pointedly at the Hogwarts headmaster with a satisfied smile on his face, apparently not interested in or not having fully registered Harry's presence, "I hear that a student has been taken into the Chamber?"

"Actually, your information is regrettably out-of-date, Lucius," Dumbledore replied with a casual smile. "The student in question has already been recovered and the monster in the Chamber defeated; your prompt attempts to inquire about her fate are appreciated, but unnecessary."

"Really," Lucius Malfoy said, briefly glancing at the objects still lying on Dumbledore's desk as his smile faltered before his attention shifted to the man sitting behind it. "So… I take it means that you have found the culprit?"

"We have," Dumbledore replied.

"Who was it?" Lucius asked, an overly curious edge to his voice that put Harry in mind of detective stories he'd seen on television where people 'knew' what they were about to hear.

"The same person as last time, Lucius," Dumbledore replied, as he picked up the tattered book with the hole in the middle. "Although on this occasion he chose to act through another, by means of this diary."

Glancing at Dobby, Harry noted that the elf was looking in a meaningful manner between him, the diary, and Lucius Malfoy, and then hitting himself on the head.

_Could it_…? Harry wondered, looking thoughtfully at Lucius, whose earlier confidence had shifted to a slight hostility.

Not only did the Malfoys fit the description of the kind of family who'd likely own a house-elf, but Draco Malfoy had only been dismissed as the Heir because he didn't fit the bill as a person; his family had still been some of the strongest candidates for the status of Slytherin's heirs before he'd found the diary, and there were their old ties to Voldemort to consider…

"A clever plan," Dumbledore said, his voice level as he stared at Lucius. "After all, if Harry and his friends hadn't discovered this book, why, Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will…"

Harry didn't need to know people to know that Lucius Malfoy was hiding something now; his face was too still to be natural.

"And imagine," Dumbledore continued, "what might have happened then; the Weasley family, a prominent if poor pure-blood family, and Arthur Weasley's Muggle Protection Act, would have never survived the fallout if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing muggle-borns. How very fortunate that Tom Riddle was defeated before he could escape…"

"Very fortunate," Malfoy said, looking at Harry for a moment before he turned around and walked away, Dobby still frantically alternating between rapid glances and punching himself from behind Malfoy before they reached the stairs.

In that moment, Harry knew what he had been missing.

"Sir?" he said, indicating the diary as Lucius Malfoy vanished down the stairs. "Could I… have that?"

"If you wish," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with a slight smile, as he pulled out a quill and a bottle of ink. "I imagine that it will make an interesting memento now that it is little more than a damaged book. In any case, I need to draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet; we'll be needing a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Smiling in brief agreement at the headmaster, Harry turned around to head back towards the stairs, taking advantage of the trip down to remove a shoe and sock and shove the sock into the diary before forcing his shoe back on.

He just hoped that what he'd read about house-elves during what little research he'd managed to do about them was accurate; the Chamber had always seemed like the more urgent thing to be working on when he wasn't doing homework…

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he smiled as he saw Lucius Malfoy at the end of the corridor, Dobby still limping along behind him. Hurrying up to the elder Malfoy, Harry moved into position in front of him and practically shoved the old diary into his hands.

"I think this is yours, sir," he said, trying to give the 'sir' the appropriate amount of contempt to make it clear he didn't really feel any sense of respect for him.

"What are you talking about?" Lucius Malfoy said, looking scornfully at Harry as he tossed the diary to the side, where it landed in Dobby's hands. "I've never seen this book before-"

"But you have," Harry said, looking coldly back at the older man. "You put it in Ginny's textbook when you took it out of her cauldron, didn't you?"

He probably wouldn't have remembered that under normal circumstances, but right now, glaring up at the man who had bought his way out of the sentence he certainly deserved, Harry was able to recall that confrontation in Flourish & Blotts' as clearly as if it had been the day before.

"If you believe that," Malfoy said, leaning over to glare at Harry more directly, "_prove it_."

Harry simply stood in silence as he glared back at Draco's father- after facing off against a basilisk when he couldn't see it, Lucius Malfoy wasn't really that intimidating-, but he didn't need to say anything; both of them knew that Harry didn't really have a leg to stand on with the evidence he had available, even if Malfoy didn't have far more connections than he did.

"You should learn when to stay silent, Potter," Lucius Malfoy said, looking slightly mockingly at him. "Your parents never learned that lesson and came to a sticky end eventually."

Harry simply stared at the elder Malfoy, not trusting himself to say anything that would actually accomplish anything useful, until the older man turned around and began to walk along the corridor again.

"Come, Dobby!" Lucius said firmly. "I said _come_!"

It was only when he turned around and saw Dobby staring at the now-opened diary, revealing the sock hidden within its pages, that he realised what had just happened.

"Master has given Dobby a sock," the elf said, staring at the dirty sock like it was a priceless treasure. "Master gave it to Dobby."

"What?" Lucius said, looking at the joyful elf in horror. "What do you mean?"

"Got a sock," Dobby repeated. "Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby… Dobby is _free_."

Lucius Malfoy turned to glare at Harry, pulling out his wand from his stick- Harry briefly wondered what the point of something like that was; was it some kind of elegance thing preventing Lucius doing something as common as hiding the wand up his sleeve?-, but he had barely started to advance towards Harry with some kind of threat before Dobby stepped in front of him.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" the elf yelled, holding out one hand and hurling Lucius to the other end of the corridor they were standing in. After a moment of disorientation, Lucius picked himself up, but the sight of Dobby glaring at him at the other end of the corridor was evidently enough to make him reconsider. After a final glare in their direction, he turned around and walked away, leaving the elf to look eagerly up at Harry.

"Harry Potter freed Dobby!" the elf said gleefully. "Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"Least I could do, Dobby," Harry said, smiling slightly at the elf. "Just… good luck in future, all right?"

He appreciated the elf's attempts at assistance even if he'd chosen a strange way to go about it, but he wasn't sure what he could do to help Dobby later…

* * *

With the mystery and threat of the Chamber dealt with, the rest of the year went by relatively smoothly, beginning with the enthusiasm of the celebratory feast and progressing from there. With the diary gone, Ginny proved a far more comfortable companion, Harry making a greater effort to include her to make up for their previous unintentional sidelining of her in the face of their investigation, and even Ron eventually became more comfortable spending time with his sister (Hermione, naturally, was just relieved to have a chance to talk to a girl interested in more than make-up, even if Ginny's interests were more inclined towards sports than Hermione's more intellectual pursuits). She was still slightly anxious and uncomfortable at times, but with Hermione's help Ginny was encouraged to relax more and more each day they spent time together, until you would never have known that she had ever felt particularly awkward around Harry in particular. Ron sometimes felt slightly embarrassed at spending so much time with his sister, but when Harry pointed out that he spent time with his sister, Ron lost any real grounds to complain or criticise and eventually learned to ignore the potential insults, focusing more on just having a good time with the group.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was naturally hampered by the lack of a teacher, but with the school more than two-thirds of the way through the academic year when Lockhart vanished, and with Lockhart's books as a more credible source than he had ever been once the personal details were ignored, the teachers were able to organise a schedule where older pupils supervised the six younger years during their lessons while teachers sat in on the seventh year classes to help them prepare for their final exams. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it got the job done for the year; the returning students for the upcoming year would just need to rely on the books rather than the teacher they'd had this year.

Justin, Colin and Nick were eventually restored to normal with a month or so to go before the exams, leaving the two students with sufficient time to catch up with their missing coursework thanks to their various housemates lending them their notes, as well as most teachers agreeing to give them some leeway in their final marking considering the exceptional circumstances that had prevented them attending class (Harry had a theory that Snape hadn't gone along with the plan, but their final marks had apparently been sufficient for the task at hand).

With the exams concluded with another comfortable pass, the Weasleys and the Grangers spent a comfortable train-ride back to King's Cross, enjoying their last few hours of permissible magic use by practising a few of their newer spells. Harry was surprised to find that he had a particular knack for disarming people by magic, while Hermione continued to lead the way in Transfiguration.

The two Granger siblings were probably going be grounded for at least half the summer after the rules they'd broken trying to get to the Chamber- Harry thought he recalled his father mentioning plans for a holiday this summer, but whether those were still on after what had happened he didn't know-, but they'd saved a friend, exposed a fraud, and stopped a dangerous monster; whatever they received at the other end, it would all be worth it.

That was life as a wizard as far as Harry was concerned; there were always complications, but once you found the good sides you never wanted to let them go…

* * *

AN 2: Hope you all liked that; another primarily canon-rewrite, but I have plans for a few more significant divergences from canon in the upcoming 'Prisoner of Azkaban' rewrite, particularly concerning Hermione's role in events…


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